


One For The Road

by miamoretti



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan Fluff, Captain Swan AU Month, Captain Swan AU Week, F/M, Parent Captain Hook | Killian Jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miamoretti/pseuds/miamoretti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Emma left Storybrooke and all of her memories behind, she and Hook shared a night together on their return from Neverland. But what happens on the Jolly Roger, doesn't always stay on the Jolly Roger... Angst/Humor/Drama/Fluff/Baby!Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One - Twist of Fate** _

 

_March 2013_

Two blue lines. 

Emma was sat on the side of her bathtub, staring at the small white stick, her hands shaking and her mind completely blank. She had absolutely no explanation as to how the pregnancy test she was holding could possibly be positive.

“I’m....pregnant.”

She whispered into the silence, her voice void of emotion. Verbalizing it, she’d hoped, would bring some kind of realization crashing down. But there was no epiphany. Emma Swan had no recollection of sleeping with anyone in almost two years. Yet she was pregnant. And it had to be _someone’s_ baby.

Tossing the test stick carelessly into the trash, she assured herself it was a faulty test and she’d just simply go buy another one. When that came back negative, it would settle the anxiety that had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach. Grabbing her jacket, she left for the store.

For the past three weeks, Emma hadn’t been feeling great. At first she’d figured it was just a viral thing, perhaps a sickness bug Henry had brought home from school. But when the nausea stuck around and she couldn’t fit into her bra anymore, she warily remembered being gifted with the same symptoms early in her pregnancy with Henry. And she hadn’t gotten her period either.

She’d knocked back the idea, scoffing at herself for thinking up such a ridiculous explanation. After Neal had broken her heart in the most horrible way he could possibly have done it, Emma had sworn she’d never let another man close enough to hurt her the way he had. And upon deciding to keep Henry, her distrust of men had caused her walls to rise up so high that very few men, if any, would ever be able to scale it. Putting her trust in a man enough to let him into her life was one thing, but to let him into Henry’s was a whole other thing.

She’d had a few one-night stands in her time, because that was as much as she could ever open up. But the last time she’d slept with anyone - and she had a very good memory - was over eighteen months earlier. If she was pregnant, then she was carrying a very small toddler at this point.

Taking four pregnancy tests off the shelf and hurriedly making for the counter, Emma avoided the cashier’s careful glance and threw a pack of gum down too, clearing her throat awkwardly. She wasn’t going to risk getting another ‘false positive’ and having to come back down to buy more tests. Now _that_ would be awkward.

The young girl said nothing and simply took her payment and wished her a pleasant day. She shot the kid a look and a sarcastic smile before making her way back to her apartment as fast as was possible down the busy New York streets.

\--------

“You did _five_ pregnancy tests?”

The clinic doctor was looking at her in disbelief and Emma could feel the heat rising on her cheeks. She felt like that tragic, hopeless seventeen year old girl again. And she thought she’d left that behind her long ago.

“It’s just not possible that I’m pregnant. I haven’t...I haven't slept with anyone for almost two years. If I do have a kid in there, I’m carrying the next baby Jesus and you’ll be seeing me on Good Morning America pretty soon.”

The doctor laughed a little and shook his head, directing Emma to lift her shirt and lay back on the bed as he dragged an ultrasound monitor over to her side.

“False positives on tests are pretty rare, especially if you do _five_ and they’re all saying the same thing. But if there’s no physical way you could have gotten pregnant, we’ll have to run a few blood tests. There’s a couple things that’ll make a pregnancy home kit show up as positive. Are you on any medication?”

Emma shook her head and sighed, her heart fluttering as she watched the young doctor switch on the ultrasound machine and squeeze the cold gel onto her still-flat stomach.

There was a few seconds of silence, but then Emma heard the distinct sound of a heartbeat as the doctor pressed the ultrasound probe to her stomach. Her heart dropped and she strained to see the monitor, disbelief and confusion all over her face.

The doctor turned the screen to face her and pointed to a tiny kidney bean shaped image at the center of the monitor.

“That’s your baby. You _are_ pregnant, Ms. Swan. Around eight weeks.”

“I...I don’t...this doesn’t make sense.”

She lay back again, in complete shock. Her voice was barely more than a whisper and the young man gently wiped the gel off her stomach as she lay there with her hands over her face, trying to take it all in.

“I’m pregnant with the next Jesus. That is literally the _only_ explanation. And I’m not even religious.”

“It’s not really recommended, but we can do a prenatal paternity test, if that’s something you’d want to consider?”

Emma sat up and pulled down her shirt, frowning as she met the doctor’s gaze.

“You’d need some kind of DNA sample from the father though, right? And how would I go about getting that considering it’s been nearly two _years_ since anyone could have possibly knocked me up?”

Her voice was much higher than normal and there were tears stinging her eyes. The young doctor clearly wasn’t experienced in dealing with hysterical young women with surprise (and impossible) pregnancies, but he was sympathetic enough and awkwardly handed her a tissue as tears of frustration slipped from her eyes.

“There’s, um...counseling here at the hospital...if you wanna talk to someone?”

Emma wiped her eyes and quickly stood up, shaking her head and trying to regain her composure.

“No. I’ll figure something out. Thanks. Sorry for crying.”

With that, Emma made for the door, leaving a stunned and somewhat confused doctor behind her. She had to go home and figure out how her life could possibly be spinning out of control when it had been nothing but ordinary just days ago. She had to lock herself away and figure out exactly how there could be a baby growing inside her when she had no memory of who had helped put it there. It was going to be a long nine months.


	2. Hello, Change

_May 2013_

Emma was eighteen weeks pregnant and her baby bump was at the stage where it was proving harder for her to find an agreeable sleeping position. It had been over a decade since she’d last been pregnant and she simply wasn’t used to carrying extra weight. Her small frame didn’t make for a very comfortable pregnancy, but she was getting on with it despite the constant question in her mind of how she’d ended up pregnant in the first place.

Henry had inquired, of course. Being at the age when he understood the basics of adult relationships, she knew he’d have questions. She’d never brought a man home to meet him and she was careful about who exactly she invited into their lives. She’d simply told him that he didn’t known the man involved...she didn’t add the fact that neither did she.

The only person she’d spoken to about her situation was the one person she classed as a friend - a fellow bailbondswoman she’d worked with on occasion - Angela. She’d bonded with the redhead following a job they’d closed together and they’d stayed in touch. Like Emma, Angela had grown up in the system and then, at sixteen, had ended up in a five-year-long abusive relationship that left her with physical scars, emotional baggage and two kids. They understood each other and Emma was grateful that she’d found someone she could actually trust and confide in.

The conversation hadn’t been as awkward as she’d initially feared it would be. It was a week after she found out about her pregnancy and Emma had dropped Henry off at his hockey practice before calling Angela, asking her to come over. Her friend had turned up an hour later with a bottle of wine, informing her that on the phone she’d sounded like she needed a large glass of red. Emma had grimaced and laughed humorlessly, touching her belly and shaking her head and Angela had almost dropped the bottle when the realization hit her.

She’d filled her in on everything she knew, which was next to nothing really, and Angie had done her best to comfort her while still being upfront and honest, a trait that Emma had always appreciated.

“There _has_ to be a father, Em. Maybe you got really drunk one night and can’t remember a one-night stand?”

But by the tone of her voice, even she knew that was an unlikely scenario. Emma’s walls were impenetrable. She never let anyone get too close and if there’d been any man in her life, the one person she would have told was Angela. They’d proceeded to talk through as many scenarios as possible that she might have forgotten, but they got nowhere.

“Maybe you really are the next Virgin Mary...without the virgin part.”

There had been no new developments on the paternity front since then and Emma had decided to put it to the back of her mind for as long as possible. She’d raised Henry on her own, she would simply do it again with this baby. She didn’t _need_ to find the father...though she knew the question of his identity would always be lingering there in the back of her mind until she found an explanation.

\----------

 

On the day of her eighteen week ultrasound, Emma waited anxiously in the waiting room of the clinic. She’d opted to take every precaution and have every test done that they recommended, because she had no idea what genetics the father of her baby could have passed on. Twisting her fingers together in knots, her eyes darted upwards as she heard her name called.

Following the kindly-looking older woman into the examination room, she took a deep breath and settled herself on the bed while the ultrasound tech checked her details and prepared the ultrasound machine.

Once the transducer probe pressed firmly against her rapidly-growing belly, Emma heard the comforting sound of a strong heartbeat and saw the older lady smile as her eyes roamed the monitor.

“Do you want to know the sex of your baby, Emma?”

Faltering slightly, Emma’s eyes darted to the screen and then down at her belly. It had seemed somewhat surreal up until that point. And while knowing whether she was having a girl or a boy wouldn’t really change anything, it would humanize its existence and make it seem like less of a lucid dream.

“Uhm...sure.”

The woman smiled again and swung the screen round to face her. Emma’s eyes widened as she saw the profile of her baby clearly before her.

“You’re having a little girl. Congratulations. I’m gonna draw your blood after I’ve checked everything’s clear here, because I’ve got on your file that you want the full work-up to rule out everything and anything. Is that right?”

Emma simply nodded, unable to take her eyes off the screen. During the routine scans when she was pregnant with Henry, she’d kept her eyes firmly away from the screen, not wanting to see him for fear of bonding with her unborn child. She’d had every intention of giving him up once he was born. But the doctor had encouraged her to hold her newborn son and when she’d looked down into his tiny pink face, she just couldn’t let him go. And every day she had with Henry, she was so very glad she’d decided to be his mother.

After cleaning herself up and having her blood drawn, Emma headed home, the image of the baby on the screen, her daughter, stuck in her mind. For the first time since finding out about its existence, she actually felt something other than anxiety or dread. She felt thankful. She was having a healthy baby, as far as the sonographer could tell, and she was determined that she’d make the most of this second chance. 

She’d missed Henry’s first two months due to finishing her prison sentence, but then she was released early and for the following month had worked hard to prove to the authorities she was fit to be his mother. She finally got her son back just before he was four months old and had spent the following twelve years determined to never let him down again, determined to never miss a single day more of his childhood.

Once she got back to her apartment, Emma called Henry’s name as she walked through the door, shrugging her jacket off and throwing her keys into the bowl in the hallway. Henry emerged from his room, greeting her with a smile between munching whatever snack he’d fixed himself after school. They’d struck a deal, now that he was twelve-almost-thirteen. She had agreed that she wouldn’t wait for him at the bus stop or arrange for Mrs. Halliwell, their eighty-five year old neighbor who treated Henry like the grandson she’d always wanted, to wait for him. He was allowed to walk the three blocks by himself, finally.

“Hey, mom. How’d it go?”

She’d told him that morning about her ultrasound scan and, although he’d tried to play it down, he was pretty excited at the prospect of a sibling.

“You’re gonna have a sister,” she told him and he beamed back at her in delight, “That means you’ll have the job of putting the fear of god into all her future boyfriends.”

She added lightheartedly, pulling her son into a hug. She couldn’t believe how grown up he was now. Most of her memories of his childhood were a little hazy, like she was watching an old movie when she thought back to that time. But there were distinct memories that stuck out in her mind, clear as day, as though they’d been polished and preserved perfectly.

The first time she ever took him to watch hockey, and he’d been spellbound throughout the whole game. His first day of school, and how bittersweet it was when as she waved him goodbye. The time he came home from school in second grade, crying because the other kids had said he had a girlfriend. Memories like that made her smile every time she recalled them. 

Moving toward the refrigerator and pouring himself a glass of milk, Henry informed her that he’d ordered them pizza already, as was their Friday night tradition, and Emma rolled her eyes.

“I’m glad I can trust you with my credit card, kid.”

She joked, disappearing into her bedroom to change into her pyjamas. So much more comfortable than the maternity jeans that were supposed to be comfortable. Pausing in front of the mirror in just her bra and pyjama pants, Emma gazed at her growing belly and sighed softly. Perhaps it wasn’t a road she’d planned on going down at this point in her life, especially considering the odd circumstance she’d found herself in, but maybe it would be okay. Maybe this road was the best thing that had happened to her and Henry. Maybe this little girl would fill the space in her heart that, for the past year, had inexplicably felt like something was missing.


	3. Involution

**Involution**  
 _n._ Entanglement. A spiraling inwards. Intricacy.

_October 2013_

New York City was a confusing, unsettling maze. Killian Jones had lived for over three centuries, but he had yet to come across a place as dizzyingly animated as the city he was currently trying to navigate. In his pocket was a list of the twenty-one people named Emma Swan, along with a handful of addresses scrawled beside a few of them.

He’d been able to narrow the twenty-one down to just six in New York state, with the help of the young owner of a tech repair store, who had been highly amused by the ‘pirate get-up’ and had offered to help him with his quest. Hook had watched, somewhere between mesmerized and wary, as the guy tapped the keys on his bizarre machine - or _computer_ as he’d called it - and less than ten minutes later he was scrawling lines through the majority of the names and addresses, until just six remained. Of those six, he had address for four of them. That was a start.

He’d gifted the young man with a small bag of gold coins and trinkets for his troubles, for which he received an expression of amazement and an, ‘Anytime, dude! Hope you find your lady!’

Then he set off to decipher the map he’d acquired of the strange land he was attempting to navigate, narrowly avoiding being run down by vessels similar to those his Swan captained and consciously ignoring the blatant stares of passers-by. He was stopped shortly thereafter by two uniformed police officers as he sauntered across a busy main street of buildings on one side overlooking a park on the other. Unaware of why they were waving him over, he decided to seize the opportunity and request directions.

“Sir...you do know jaywalking isn’t allowed in this city, right?”

“Pardon me? I’m unaware of the type of walking you speak of...”

The officers exchanged glances before looking him up and down.

“You off Broadway or something, pal?”

One of them asked, his tone suggesting he wasn’t in a particularly jovial mood. The other looked a little less tetchy, bordering on amused. When he answered them with only a confused expression, the grumpy, older officer sighed.

“Look, you clearly ain’t from round here, so we’ll just let it go this time. Cross at the designated areas, don’t just walk out, y’hear?”

Hook nodded slowly, still completely lost. Thrusting his map into the friendlier officer’s hands, he pointed to where the young tech store guy had put stark red crosses on four streets.

“I’m somewhat lost and I’m having a bloody challenge finding where I’m going. Could you be so kind as to point me in the direction of any of these locations, please?”

The grumpy one’s expression softened a little and he peered over at the map in his partner’s hands and retrieved a sharpie from his shirt pocket. He then drew a black cross to highlight their current location and a zigzagging line across to the closest red cross. Pointing down the street they were standing on, his tone less bemused than before, he gave Killian straightforward directions and sent him on his way.

\--------

An hour later, as Killian finally spotted the street name he’d been searching for, his heart stilled in his chest momentarily. The idea that he could be just a few moments away from seeing his Swan’s beautiful face once more was enough to make him speed up his pace ever so slightly. Checking the address for a third time in as many minutes, he stopped in front of a somewhat nondescript Victorian building. It looked like pretty much every other he’d passed in the last hour of searching.

Taking a quick breath to steady himself, he walked up the steps and eyed the list of numbers to the left of the large doors, a button next to each of them and names labelling a handful. He saw ‘Swan’ written beside the corresponding apartment number he had written down and quickly pressed the button, giving a small start when a static buzzing was the initial response from the speaker.

Killian stared at the box of buttons in confusion, unsure exactly what was supposed to happen. Then, a few short moments later, a woman’s voice came from the speaker and he frowned.

“Hello?”

He couldn’t tell if it was her voice, so he stuttered a response.

“Hello. I...have a delivery for Emma Swan.”

Neal had told him exactly how he was to gain access to any apartment blocks, but he was sure he couldn’t have sounded any less convincing. There was a pause and then a louder buzzing noise, followed by a click of what he assumed was the door opening for him. His heart racing now, Killian pulled open the door and all-but raced up the stairs, counting off the numbers listed at the top of each flight.

Upon arriving at her floor, he peered down the corridor and paused for a moment to regain his composure, reminding himself over and over that she wouldn’t remember him. It wasn’t going to be some emotional, joyous reunion, because to her, he’d just be some devilishly handsome stranger dressed as a pirate and telling her that the family she didn’t remember ever having was in danger and needed her back.

_Just don’t try kissing her, Hook. It won’t work. True Love’s kiss only works when memories are in tact._

Charming’s words resounded in his head then, and he shook them away. He wouldn’t kiss her, it would just increase the risk of her slamming the door in his face and make his task that much harder...if it didn’t bring her memories back. No. No, he couldn’t risk it.

Bounding towards the apartment of Emma Swan, Killian rapped on the door with his good hand, heart hammering and his mouth suddenly dry. This was it. The door swung open shortly after and...his heart dropped, confusion marring his features. He didn’t know the woman stood in front of him. Tall, firmly built brunette with brown eyes and a blank expression. She crossed her arms and looked him up and down with wary tedium.

“I already give to charity, I ain’t signing up for yours. And I don’t want whatever you’re selling-”

Something in his distraught expression stopped the woman in her tracks and she unfolded her arms, quickly realizing he wasn’t on her doorstep to sell her anything.

“Wrong address, I’m guessing.”

She glanced at the piece of paper held in a gloved hand. Killian nodded dejectedly, disappointment all over his face, and she reached for the paper. Surprised, he let her take it and watched carefully as her eyes scanned the addresses.

“Didn’t realize there was six of me in this city. Okay, next address is about ten minutes from here. You have a map?” he nodded and retrieved the neatly folded map from his jacket pocket and gave it to her, “Right, from here you carry on down this street and turn left. Walk...one, two...five blocks, then take another left. Should be somewhere down there.”

She offered him a small smile and a ‘good luck’, and he thanked her warmly, making his way back toward the street to continue his mission. He wouldn’t get his hopes up so high for the next address. Just in case.

 

\-------

 

The following two on the list were a bust and he was rapidly losing faith that he was even in possession of her address. There were two on his list for which he didn’t have addresses and it would be just his luck if she was one of those two. But he wouldn’t give up. He’d lived without her, in a whole other realm, for over eight months. Now, he was in the same world, in the same city. He wasn’t about to let her slip through his fingers without doing everything he possibly could to locate her. He’d given her parents his word, and Killian Jones always stayed true to his word.

Approaching the final address on his list, Killian folded the paper and slid it into his pocket along with his map, fingers grazing the small bottle of enchanted liquid he carried that would return her memories...though how he would get her to drink it, he wasn’t entirely sure. A head full of fake happy memories of a life with Henry might have softened her edges a little, perhaps created an Emma who wasn’t quite so reluctant to trust people, but she wasn’t likely to happily throw back a vial of glowing blue liquid that a complete stranger gave her after showing up at her door telling her that her whole life was actually just one fluffy, manufactured lie. He was going to her to gain her trust first. He’d done it once and he’d do it again, no matter how long it took.

Traipsing up the the third floor, he steeled himself as he knocked, fixing his eyes on the door and holding his breath. It had been a long day, dragging himself across a city he was rapidly beginning to hate and knocking on strangers’ doors with the spark of hope in his heart being slowly snuffed out.

But as the door opened this time, his heart leapt in his chest. It was her. She was stood before him looking more radiant than he remembered her ever looking, her hair loose around her face, wearing an oversized grey shirt and black yoga pants. She looked different, but he couldn’t place how. His gaze was locked on hers, his breath stolen. When he finally found his voice, it was a choked, wrecked sound that passed his lips.

“Swan...at last.”

He moved forward and she held up her hand, eyes widening with alarm. Killian’s thoughts were scrambled. He’d prepared himself to be facing another stranger and every practised line he’d had ready like a script in his head had disappeared. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and she was staring at him as though some part of her recognized him. His heart was hammering in her chest again, the script suddenly returning to his head. But when he spoke, his words were more hurried and jumbled than he’d rehearsed.

“Look, I need your help. Something's happened. Something terrible. Your family is in trouble.”

A frown settled on Emma’s face and she regarded him carefully, distrust written into every soft line of her face. Apparently, Regina’s fake memories hadn’t softened her edges that much.

“My family’s right here. Who are you?”

She replied with a slight amount of venom, shifting carefully, hands going to her hips. The subject of family was always a testy subject with her, and when some strange guy dressed like a wannabe-Jack Sparrow turned up spouting off lines about her ‘family’ being in danger, it roused her finely-attuned defence mechanisms. But he looked so familiar, and that notion was haunting her.

His gaze dropped as her hands had moved to her hips, the oversized shirt she wore stretching across her now-very-pregnant belly. She didn’t have an enormous baby bump, but any kind of formfitting clothes very clearly showed her condition off to the world. Oversized shirts and hoodies were serving her well and were the only clothes she ever felt comfortable in now, just a week away from her due date.

Killian had stopped breathing and he couldn’t tell whether his chest was burning due to lack of oxygen to his lungs or if it was his heart about to burst right out of his chest. She was pregnant. Very pregnant. And he didn’t know how to react. His mind instantly flashed back to their one shared night together, aboard the Jolly Roger, on the way back to Storybrooke from Neverland. 

_They’d ended up alone on the deck of his ship, everyone else having retired to the cabins, the night air settling comfortably around them as they sat in comfortable, companionable silence. Neither had spoken of their heated moment in Neverland until then, though it had been all he could think about. He’d been able to taste her kiss every time he closed his eyes and he hoped he’d never forget that feeling. He’d felt alive, really alive, for the first time in a very long time. She’d ignited something in him that he’d been so sure had died with Milah._

_Emma had actively tried to ignore the growing tension between them, until his secret came out in the Echo Caves. His words had stuck with her and, as they’d sat side-by-side on the deck of the Jolly Roger, the worry of Henry’s absence now gone, she’d let the words slip from her lips unhindered, the rum he’d shared with her taking away enough of her inhibitions that she wasn’t constantly overthinking everything she said to him._

_“What you said back there, in the Echo Caves...did you mean it?”_

_Hook had cocked an eyebrow at her, taking a quick swig from his flask before handing it back to his favorite blonde._

_“Well, the rocks moved, didn’t they, love?”_

_She shook her head, accepting the flask and swirling it around absently._

_“Don’t deflect. Did you mean what I think you meant?”_

_There was a long pause and then he turned his head to meet her gaze. She searched his eyes silently and the corner of his lips twitched into a small smile._

_“If what you’re asking is if I love you...then yes, that I do, lass.”_

_His open, raw honesty delivered so gently made her stomach drop and butterflies quickly took up residence there. She couldn’t break his gaze, their eyes locked, the warm buzz from the rum mixing with feelings she’d always fought against suddenly surfacing. And before she could overthink everything, he was closing the space between them slowly, leaning closer, his gaze dropped to her lips as his tongue swept over his own. He was giving her plenty time to move away, to push him back and stop what was inevitably going to unravel between them...but she didn’t._

_Emma simply let her eyes flutter closed and felt the spark ignite into a fire as his lips touched hers with such a cautious tenderness that it took her breath away. It was a kiss so very opposite to the one they’d shared in the jungle. The desperate, passionate fire replaced by a slow-burning, tentative taste. She could feel every ounce of his love for her poured into a single kiss and her fingers tingled with the euphoria of it._

_It didn’t take long for his hand to slide into her hair, scattering cold bumps over her shoulders and down her bare arms as he did so, gently encouraging and deepening their kiss. When his tongue touched her lips, requesting entry, she didn’t even falter, lost in a sea of sensation._

_They’d made out on the deck like a couple of teenagers, but the fire he’d started inside her was burning white hot, and she needed more. Every nerve in her body was screaming for his touch and she abruptly broke their passionate embrace, standing up quickly. He looked confused, his hair tousled from her fingers and his lips well-kissed. She took his hand and, without speaking a word, led the way to the Captain’s quarters. As she closed and locked the door behind them, she turned and offered him a small, somewhat nervous smile._

_“We don’t have to-”_

_“Shut up, Hook. I want this. Don’t make me overthink it. I’m feeling good and I want you. You said you’d win my heart and I’m stood here giving it to you.”_

_She’d removed her vest top in one quick movement and his eyes openly roamed across her taut stomach and lace-covered breasts, pupils dilating to take in as much of her flawless perfection as he possibly could. She visibly blushed under his wondrous gaze and slipped out of her pants, moving towards him and pushing the heavy leather jacket off his shoulders._

_The rest of the night went by in somewhat of a dream, like a movie scene he could recall every detail of. The feeling of her soft skin beneath his fingertips, her golden hair fanned out on the pillow as she threw her head back and gasped for breath, whimpering as quietly as she could manage. They’d taken their time and savored every second of every sensation they’d created in one another and he’d committed to memory the stunning sight of her coming apart beneath him._

_When they’d finished making love - because in nobody’s book could what they’d shared be classed as just sex - he collapsed on top of her, kissing her neck as they both tried to suck in much-needed oxygen. She’d gently trailed her fingers down the firm muscles of his back as they remained connected for long moments, and he swore that simple, intimate touch would forever be locked in his heart._

Snapping back to the present moment, Killian found Emma waving her hand in front of his face with mild annoyance, her other hand now supporting her back.

“Hey, Jack Sparrow, rejoin reality, yeah?”

“Y-you’re pregnant.”

He stated, suddenly numb. She rolled her eyes and laughed humorlessly, her response bemused and caustic.

“Congratulations on your observation skills, Captain Obvious.”

“Who’s...the father?”

He asked carefully, his voice sounded almost as wrecked as he felt. One the one hand, she for all he knew, she could have met someone and be living a happily ever after with him, Henry and their unborn child. But the alternative was that she was carrying his child, that their night of passion between Storybrooke and Neverland had graced them with more than just vivid memories...well, he was the only one with the memories, but the point still stood.

Emma stared at him in disbelief and heat rose on her cheeks, whether through anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t discern.

“Do you know how _rude_ it is to turn up on someone’s doorstep and straight up ask about the paternity of their child? Who the fuck are you?!”

Her voice was shaking and almost an octave higher than normal. He searched her face, at a loss for words. Was she simply mad because of the question, or because she didn’t have an answer? If she had no memories of him, then she had no memories of their night together. He was sure she hadn’t known of a pregnancy back before she left Storybrooke, because surely she would have at least told him. Or she’d have told Regina, so that a false memory of how exactly she got pregnant could feature in the gift wrapped life the former Evil Queen had conjured up for her.

“Emma, I-”

“Don’t Emma me. I don’t know who you are and you turn up here-”

“Look, I know you can't remember me, but...I can make you.”

All reasonable though had left his head, all of her father’s warnings against planting one on her to return her memories disappearing as he moved forward and pressed his lips to hers in one quick movement...

And he swore she lifted her lips to meet his, even just for a split second. Some part of her knew. The tiny part of her that had caused recognition to flash across her face when she’d opened the door to him had to be the same tiny part that responded to his kiss. But the split second response was replaced by her knee coming up to make contact with a part of his anatomy she’d previously been much kinder with.

Reeling back and grimacing in pain as she shoved him out of her doorway, he tried to explain before she slammed the door in his face.

“Look, I know this seems crazy, but you have to listen to me...”

He stopped as the expression on her face turned from anger to surprise, a gasp falling from her lips as her gaze dropped to her feet where clear liquid was starting to pool. He followed her gaze, still in pain, before looking up at her, confused. She met his gaze, the anger now dissipated completely, her voice shaking as she spoke and one hand suddenly clutching her belly while the other grasped for support from the wall next to her.

“M-my...my water just broke.”


	4. Hope

Emma was panicking. Her water had broken and she was getting very insistent cramping in her lower belly. When she was having Henry, everything had been well-prepared and the prison doctors had induced her labor. This time, she was stood on her doorstep, arguing with a leather-clad Bellevue patient whose face was achingly familiar when her baby decided of her own accord that she was ready to be born.

The look of sheer horror on the wannabe pirate's face was enough to tell her that he was just as freaked out as she was...which brought more her comfort than she was comfortable admitting, even to herself. And despite the fact that she'd been about to slam the door in the lunatic's face after kneeing him in his groin, his identity and reason for showing up out of the blue at her door seemed less important now than her need to get to the hospital. 

Her labor with Henry had been pretty quick and she did _not_ plan on giving birth to her daughter in the back of a New York City cab. She was pretty sure the cab driver wouldn't be pleased if she did that either. So, after hurriedly grabbing the hospital bag she'd packed just two days earlier, she rushed out of her apartment as fast as she physically could, with the handsome (but obviously crazy) stranger at her heels.

“I don't even know your name.”

She said, turning to face Killian as the elevator took its sweet time arriving at the ground floor.

“Killian Jones, m'lady.”

He replied, offering her a warm smile that somehow managed to give her butterflies. She decided to put that particular feeling down to the baby, rather than to some odd connection she felt to this strange man. As the doors rolled open, she put that notion out of her head.

“Hail a cab.”

She ordered him as they flew out of the apartment block's main doors. He automatically grabbed her arm to assist her down the steps and she didn't know why it felt like such a natural action to simply allow him to guide her.

“I don't know what that means, Swan.”

He said, a frustrated edge to his voice that told her he wasn't just toying with her. She stared at him incredulously and responded with an exasperated grunt before waving her arm furiously at a passing cab. Luckily, it swerved to a stop beside them and Killian instantly opened the door for her, sliding in beside her once she'd struggled in to the backseat. 

“New York Pres. And please be quick, my baby's coming and I'm pretty sure neither of us wants me to give birth in your cab.”

The driver peered at her in his mirror with a look of alarm and then quickly nodded, taking off down the street the second Killian's door closed. The short drive seemed to take an excruciating amount of time thanks to the typical New York traffic, and Emma watched her odd acquaintance carefully.

“Why did you decide to come with me? I mean, I don't know you...and I just kneed you in the groin.”

Killian met her gaze and paused as he considered his answer. Telling her that there was a good chance the baby she was about to give birth to was his would probably go down about as well as his decision to kiss her. So he simply shrugged and averted his gaze to the leather-covered space between them.

“You shouldn't have to do this alone. You had nobody there for you when you gave birth to Henry. This time should be different.”

Emma's eyes narrowed and her heart stilled in her chest as he mentioned her son's name. There wasn't an ounce of a lie in his features, just a vulnerable honesty that only served to confuse her further. She was somewhat glad that Henry was staying at his friend's house that evening, not having the added worry of contacting Angela to bring him to the hospital and not having to deal with an interrogation from her friend later regarding Killian and his mysterious appearance. 

But as she was about to demand how exactly he knew about Henry and details from her past that she kept carefully locked away, the questions died on her lips as a crippling pain stole her breath. A gasp escaped her and both the driver and Killian eyed her cautiously.

The cab finally pulled up at the hospital a few minutes later and Killian rushed around to help her out of the car while the cab driver hollered for help from some nearby people in scrubs, informing them that his passenger was in labor. Waving her away when Emma tried to fumble in her purse for a handful of dollars, he wished her luck and patted Killian on the back as he left.

 

\-------

 

The following six hours were endless for Killian as he sat in the waiting room of the delivery suite, alternating between pacing and trying to immerse himself in some baffling - and badly acted - medical soap opera on the small television in the corner of the room. He hadn't been particularly surprised when Emma, in between contractions, had screamed at him to get out of the delivery room.

One of the nurses had given him a sympathetic smile and guided him to the waiting room he was currently sitting in. She assured him as she left the room that she'd heard women in labor scream much worse things at their other halves and not to take it to heart. He'd chosen not to set her straight on their complicated situation and instead just thanked her and settled into a comfy chair that really wasn't that comfortable.

Glancing at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time in an hour, he suddenly heard the door open, hopeful for any news. The kindly nurse who had escorted him early stood grinning at him and beckoning him over. He jumped up, eager to know that Emma and the baby were doing alright. All sorts of scenarios had plagued him throughout the six hour wait.

“Both your ladies-”

“Ladies…” Killian repeated.

“Yes, your partner and your new daughter are doing great. We had to take Emma to the OR because baby got a little distressed but they're both fine. Would you like to see them? Emma's not come round from the anesthetic just yet but I'm sure she'd be happy for you to be there when she wakes up.”

_'Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that, lass.'_

He thought, somewhat sadly, but followed her toward Emma's room with his heart hammering in his chest. His brain couldn't process it all. He'd turned up in New York to find Emma and Henry, armed with the task of getting them back to Storybrooke. He certainly hadn't expected to find her and discover that they were having a child together...if the child was actually his. But he couldn't see any alternative. If there was a man in her life, surely he would have been informed and would have arrived to be by her side by now. 

He wanted to cry. The big, tough Captain Hook wanted to cry. It was all so very bittersweet. He'd missed her whole pregnancy, missed the chance to take care of her and plan for their child's arrival. He'd missed watching her belly grow and insisting on talking to her bump each night so that their child would know his voice when she arrived in the world.

Nervously following the nurse into the room, his eyes met Emma's sleeping form and his heart was almost overflowing with the love he felt for her. Glancing round the room, he couldn't see the baby anywhere and the nurse noticed his confusion.

“Your daughter's in the nursery. I can take you there if you'd like, it's just down the hallway? You can bring her back here while you wait for mom to wake up.”

So, once again Killian hurried along behind the nurse, anxious to meet his daughter, not sure how to describe the emotions he was feeling. He'd all but given up on the idea of being a father. He was almost three-and-a-half centuries old and when Milah had died, he'd swept that dream aside, because dwelling on it simply hurt too much.

Now, here he was, in a strange city, in a whole different world, about to meet a child he may have never known existed were it not for the quest Emma's parents had sent him on. He momentarily wondered how they'd react, when he returned not only with Emma and Henry, but also with a child who was perhaps another product of True Love. He was entirely sure Charming would take the news better than Snow, but he still might earn himself a punch.

Emerging from his reverie as the nurse stopped in front of a crib and lifted a tiny little creature wrapped pink into her arms, Killian couldn't take his eyes off of the little girl. She cried out in protest at being disturbed and he had already fallen head over heels for the child. 

As the nurse gently slid her into Killian's arms, the baby immediately stopped crying and squinted up at her father, her hands flailing and grasping the finger he held out to her while still holding her tight with his hook arm. He was now very glad he'd opted for the gloved prosthesis - he was wary enough of handling her with the utmost care without adding a sharp hook to the equation. 

He awkwardly held her tight to his chest, terrified of dropping such a tiny, precious treasure. In all his years, despite all the gold and treasures he'd collected, the squirming pink bundle in his arms was, without a doubt, the most beautiful and precious thing he'd ever seen. Though he knew he was biased, of course.

Completely besotted with her already, he simply stared down into her tiny face and smiled widely when she made a soft cooing sound.

“Looks like she's going to be a real daddy's girl.”

The nurse smiled, before guiding him to lay her back in the crib and pushing it towards the door. Returning to Emma's room, where the exhausted mother's sedation hadn't quite worn off yet, Killian settled into the comfy chair (which was actually comfortable this time) beside her bed. The nurse lifted the baby from her crib once more and placed her easily into Killian's arms before squeezing his shoulder and leaving them alone to bond.

For a little under thirty minutes, he simply sat staring down at the little girl, memorizing every tiny line on her face and every sound she made. He hoped more than anything that he could restore Emma's memories soon, because he knew that being separated from either of them now would break his heart completely.

 

\-------

 

Stirring from a hazy, deep sleep, Emma squinted up at the harsh fluorescent lights and blinked a few times. She felt numb from the waist down and the realization of where she was dawned on her suddenly. Turning her head, she froze when she saw the leather-clad stranger who had stressed her into labor earlier, sitting cradling her daughter, his expression one of pure love as he watched her cooing quietly in his arms. Her heart fluttered and her head still felt fuzzy, so she had no explanation for the word that passed her lips.

“Hook.”

His head shot up and his eyes widened, gaze locked with hers as she blinked again to try and clear the fog misting her mind. He'd told her his name was Killian, so why on earth had she called him Hook? He was standing then, right by her side, baby still cradled safely in his arms as he looked down at Emma with wonder and hope and amazement.

“You...remember? You remember who I am?”

His words were drenched in hope and she felt a stab of guilt as her mind started to clear a little. She shook her head and couldn't help but notice the way his face and shoulders dropped, as though she'd just drowned out that beautiful spark of hope he'd had in his eyes a few moments before. She had no explanation as to why she'd called him that. Shaking away that confusion, her gaze dropped to her little girl, snuggled tightly and safely into his arms. She was perfect.

Holding out her hands for the baby, she felt her heart swell instantly as Killian placed her in her arms with such tender care that she wondered if he had kids of his own.

“She's beautiful, Emma.”

He said simply, voice soft and quiet, eyes unable to leave the tiny pink bundle. They both remained in comfortable silence for long minutes, just watching her drift off to sleep. Finally, Emma lifted her gaze to Killian.

“I didn't expect you to stick around...”

Her words hung between them and he held her eye contact, allowing her to read the truth as the words fell from his lips.

“I will stay by your side for as long as you will allow me the honor, Swan. I know this makes no sense to you right now, but it will. I've never once told you a lie, and I know you have more than a few issues with trust, but if you could just-”

“I trust you,” she cut in, second-guessing herself but somehow sure of the conviction in her instinctive response, “I don't know _why_ I trust you but...I do.”

This man had shown up unannounced and 'assaulted' her with those delicious, soft lips of his, for which she had rewarded him a swift knee to the groin...and yet he still stuck around when she went into labor and for the following six hours thereafter. Something in her gut told her she could trust this man, and that was something her gut very rarely said.

Killian was smiling at her in a way that made butterflies stir in her stomach and she silently berated herself for such a teenage girl response. But he _did_ have a butterfly-inducing smile. And the feeling that she’d known him, perhaps in another life somehow, stuck with her. Which was why she didn’t protest when he perched on the edge of the bed, watching her and the baby with nothing but adoration in his eyes.


	5. And The Walls Comes Tumbling Down

Having a baby in her life again wasn’t the way Emma had expected it to be. She thought after raising Henry on her own at seventeen years old, her age and experience would serve her well this time. But it all felt like new territory somehow. Changing diapers, middle-of-the-night feedings, even just soothing her daughter...it all felt as though she was doing it for the first time again, learning the ropes. And she simply couldn’t fathom how that could be. Every time she tried to recall how she’d handled these things when Henry was a baby, she drew a blank, as though the memories were someone else’s that she was trying to remember as her own. Fuzzy, out-of-focus, Polaroid pictures masquerading as memories.

Angela had brought Henry to the hospital the morning after his sister had arrived, to give Emma time to rest. He’d immediately bonded with the baby as he sat in the comfy chair, holding her like porcelain, enthralled by her. He’d never held a baby before and Emma’s heart had warmed as she’d watched them together.

Emma had been released from the hospital with the baby two days after she’d given birth, which was a relief considering the slight complications during the birth. But the doctors had been satisfied that both mom and baby were perfectly healthy and ready to go, so she’d happily headed for home. 

And she was thankful that Henry was proving such a doting and capable brother, because it was certainly a struggle to keep everything balanced now that they were home and on their own. She’d wondered on more than one occasion, how on earth she’d coped at seventeen. Perhaps Henry had just been an easy baby, though it bothered her that she couldn’t quite remember whether that was true or not.

With so much to keep her busy, it startled Emma to realize that her mind kept wandering back to the mysterious leather-clad stranger who had stormed into her life and left quite the impression. Killian Jones. Even thinking of his name created a strange sensation in her heart that she couldn’t quite describe. The mental image of him cradling her daughter so carefully, and gazing at both of them with such love and devotion, would appear without warning and stick with her. 

Before he’d left the hospital, he’d promised he’d see her again, but said he would give her some space to settle first. It could have sounded like a threat, but all she could hear in his words was love and that unsettled her...as did the inexplicable connection she felt to him. So, when the doorbell rang on a Saturday morning, while Henry sat cuddling his week-old sister on the sofa and watching cartoons, Emma’s mind immediately conjured the image of Killian standing on her doorstep, just the way he had done before she’d gone into labor.

Pulling open the door, Emma fought the smile that attempted to light up her face as her gaze met his. And she also chose to ignore the thrill that ran the length of her spine as he offered her a dazzling grin.

“Swan. I trust seven days has been an appropriate length of time for me to keep my distance?”

The hopeful lilt in his voice was not lost on Emma and she had to try a little harder to fight back that smile. She allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up just slightly, and nodded. She hated to admit it, but she’d been sort of hoping he’d turn up again, given that she had no way of locating him unless he showed up of his own accord. There was some kind of magnetic pull she felt toward him that she both wanted to resist and accede to at the same time. It was more than a little confusing.

Stepping back, she hesitated for a moment before gesturing an invitation of entry, which Killian gladly accepted with a beaming grin that she was sure could power all of New York for a full day. He followed her down the hallway and greeted Henry warmly. Emma pointedly ignored the curious gaze Henry leveled on her as he returned the greeting with a cautious, “hey”.

“Do you, uhm, want a drink or something?”

She could see Killian was distracted now, his eyes soft and gazing at the baby in Henry’s arms. At her question, he turned to face her again and nodded slowly.

“Hot chocolate with cinnamon, thank you, love.”

He said pointedly, and Emma narrowed her eyes, reading him as best she could. It was purposeful, but how could he _know_ that? It was a subtle quirk that she shared with Henry, but very few people knew about, unless they _really_ knew her. She was becoming more and more convinced that she’d known him in another life, because she was apparently an open book to him.

Turning on her heel and breaking away from the heat in his steady gaze, she busied herself in the kitchen, glancing over to watch Killian sit beside Henry and strike up a quiet conversation she couldn’t quite decipher.

“You’re helping your mom with the baby then, huh lad?”

“Erm...yeah. How do you know my mom? She only has one friend...”

Killian smiled warmly at him, and Henry was struck by the same feeling that his mother had when it came to knowing he could trust the stranger sitting next to him.

“I’m an old friend, someone your mother knew in another life.”

He couldn’t tell whether Henry was simply accepting this explanation or whether he was storing it away to look into at a later point. Because Killian knew the lad to be whip-smart and hardly ever happy to take such easy answers, but no more questions were asked, other than his name. Henry rolled the name around on his tongue, testing it as though he’d heard it before but couldn’t place where and Killian smiled, somewhat pained. When they had their memories back, it wouldn’t be a moment too soon.

Emma joined them then, placing two hot chocolates with cinnamon on the table in front of them and lifting her daughter off of Henry’s lap. Killian watched her, his heart aching for the life they could be living, if it weren’t for their memories being shrouded from their minds by yet another dark curse. His arms ached to hold Emma, to hold their child, and he had no choice but to resist it. Once he’d brought back their memories, they would have that moment and many more.

“Could I hold her?”

He asked carefully, quietly. Emma looked down at her daughter in her arms and saw his eyes looking back at her. Startled, she lifted her gaze to meet Killian’s and her heart stirred. It couldn’t be...but those eyes were the exact same dazzling blue that had taken her breath away the first time she’d seen them. Her own eyes were green and Henry’s were hazel. She couldn’t remember Henry’s eyes ever having been quite so startlingly blue. She quickly reminded herself that most babies were born with blue eyes that would change gradually over their first few months or years, but even Angela had commented on how brilliantly blue her little girl’s eyes were.

Gently placing her daughter into Killian’s arms, she noticed that Henry was watching them both carefully over his mug. Her kid was too smart for his own good and she knew she would probably be getting an interrogation about who exactly the not-as-strange-as-he-should-have-been stranger was as soon as he left. She knew it was her own fault for never allowing any of the men in her life to meet Henry. She’d thought of it as protecting him, but it just made him hyper-curious whenever she _did_ appear to have a male presence in her life.

“What’s her name?”

Killian asked in a soft voice, barely above a whisper and she smiled. The baby wasn’t sleeping, but he was speaking quietly so as not to startle her. Quite adorable, really.

“Hope. Her name’s Hope. I don’t know why, it just came to me the first time I saw her.”

He repeated her name, entranced by the tiny human he held so carefully in his arms. Hope. What an appropriate name, he thought, and she didn’t even realize it. Perhaps there really was a part of her subconscious that was screaming out to be heard, a part that knew exactly who he was. Smiling down at his daughter, he couldn’t help but imagine the happiness he would feel when Emma had her memories back and he would finally have the chance to really be Hope’s father.

At that moment, Hope began to wail and Killian gave a start, looking to Emma for guidance as to what he should do. Emma smiled warmly at him and took the baby, cradling her as she began to root against her mother’s shirt.

“She’s hungry, that’s all. I’m gonna go into the other room to feed her-”

“Oh, I could feed her, if you wish?”

Emma paused, staring at him for a moment as Henry burst into fits of laughter, hot chocolate almost spilling all over him. His laughter was infectious and Emma couldn’t help the small laugh that passed her lips. Killian looked deeply confused, which only made Henry snort with laughter.

“Uhm...I don’t think Hope would appreciate that very much.”

She offered, subtly. Nope, he wasn’t catching on.

“My mom’s breast-feeding her.”

Henry offered, before erupting into another fit of laughter, which was only worsened by the coloring of Killian’s cheeks as realization finally came to him. Emma was still chuckling to herself as she moved to her bedroom, struck by the endlessly amusing image of Killian attempting to ‘breast-feed’ her child.

 

\--------------------

 

“So, you’re in love my mom, huh?”

Henry had waited until the second after Emma had closed the bedroom door behind her before pouncing. Killian’s head snapped round and he leveled a careful gaze on the boy, heart suddenly pounding in his chest. Was it really that obvious? Then again, he reminded himself, this kid was far more observant than the average eleven year old. He knew he had to choose his words carefully.

“Your mother and I…we have history. I care about her very much.”

The corner of Henry’s mouth turned up into a tiny smile and he had a knowing glint in his eye that unnerved Killian.

“So that’s a yeah then. My mom doesn’t ever let her boyfriends meet me. I think my dad really screwed her up and she’s just trying to protect me. It’s a pretty big thing that she’s even let you in here…are you Hope’s dad?”

Killian’s palm was sweating and for once it was a bonus he only had the one hand to worry about. How exactly did he say ‘yes, I’m your sister’s father, but your mom doesn’t know that’ without sounding like a lunatic? And if he confirmed that he was, in fact, Hope’s father, Henry would most certainly bring that up in not-so-casual conversation with Emma. He’d just begun to break down her walls on the road to getting her to trust him, but something like that would most definitely drive a wedge between them.

So, instead of outright lying to the boy, Killian swallowed thickly and attempted to sound as nonchalant and unaffected as possible.

“What makes you ask that, lad?”

“Well, you’re obviously special or she really trusts you, because she’s not even made a big deal out of me meeting you. I can’t even remember the name of my mom’s last boyfriend,” Henry shrugged, “she’s overprotective.”

Killian couldn’t help but imagine the confusion and difficulty Emma would have faced when coming to terms with a pregnancy she’d had no way of explaining or understanding. His chest ached with the knowledge that she’d spent the last nine months alone with none of the answers she’d needed. And it would be so very bittersweet once she had her memories back, because although she would have those answers, she would also have the knowledge that she’d glimpsed into what her life with Henry could have been like. And if anyone understood regret, it was Killian.

“Do you like video games?”

Killian snapped out of his thoughts when Henry waved a bizarre-looking gadget in front of him. _Ye Gods, this world has too many devices._

“If I knew what such a thing was, perhaps I would like it. Care to teach an old pirate new tricks?”

As soon as the word ‘pirate’ was out of his mouth, he immediately panicked, eyes widening as he watched for Henry’s reaction. The young boy’s eyes widened too, confusion and excitement battling for dominance.

“So, that’s why you’re dressed like that? Are you a Jack Sparrow look-alike person or something? You’re missing a hat.”

Further confusion for Killian. He mentally chastised himself for such a thoughtless slip-up just as Henry had obligingly changed the subject away from his identity. If he told the kid the truth now, he’d most certainly sound like a basket case. Too risky. Instead, he’d just agree that he was a look-like of whoever this ‘Jack Sparrow’ person was and hope no further questioning would follow.

“Aye, lad. Now, what is this video games contraption you’re going to show me?”

For a moment, Henry looked as though he wouldn’t be deterred from interrogation mode, but then he grinned and scrambled towards what Killian could only assume to be the lad’s bedroom. He returned moments later waving a thin plastic box and grinning.

“I have a Pirates of the Caribbean game. You can be Jack Sparrow!”

 

\----------------

 

Emma quietly closed the bedroom door behind her, not wanting to wake Hope after spending the best part of an hour feeding and nursing her. Hearing the sound of video games, she rolled her eyes and started toward the kitchen, but stopped as she saw Killian and Henry engrossed in a pirate game.

_‘Smooth, Henry.’_

She thought with a small smile. He’d been obsessed with all things pirates and sailing for almost a year and had begged her to send him on a weekend sailing course his school had made available. She’d relented and had worried herself sick the entire time he was gone, imagining all he horrible things that could go wrong at sea. Silly really, considering the kids were barely leaving the North Cove harbor.

The most vivid of her nightmares was one in which evil mermaids had tried to sink his little ship and she’d awoken in a cold sweat, wondering why such a surreal, impossible scenario felt more like a memory than simply a product of an overactive imagination.

Watching her son with this achingly familiar stranger stirred the part of her that had somehow always felt hollow, despite a life of happy memories. There had just always been something – or someone – missing and she’d never been able to fill that void, as though her heart was a jigsaw puzzle with a missing piece that she had no idea how to find. When he’d turned up, standing on her doorstep with eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul, something in her heart had shifted, as though welcoming him as that jigsaw piece it had been patiently waiting for.

And now, here he was, already settling so easily into her life and her heart. She was always conscious of keeping people at arm’s length, of keeping them at bay so no one could surprise her by getting too close. With him it felt different. She was instinctively making exceptions to her own rules and letting him slowly edge his way into her heart without putting up much of a fight. Maybe it was because of the way he looked at her. Maybe it was because of those eyes, those sapphires that seemed to know her so intimately that it shook her to the core every time they bore into her.

“Mom, Killian’s a Jack Sparrow look-alike! How cool is that!”

Henry snapped her out of her reverie suddenly and she could easily read from Killian’s body language that he was getting uncomfortable. She had the distinct feeling he’d agreed to that solely to shut Henry up.

“Really? I would have thought he was more of a Captain Hook kinda guy.”

She replied pointedly, keeping her gaze locked on Killian and catching the way his eyes flashed as they snapped up to connect with hers, his jaw clenching slightly. Fortunately, Henry seemed oblivious to the heated tension that had suddenly manifested between his mother and Killian and he returned to his game.

“You keep playing, lad. I just need to speak with your mother.”

Emma watched him carefully, attempting to read the indecipherable expression he was trying hard to neutralize, schooling it into a mask of indifference. But she’d caught that split-second reaction when she mentioned Captain Hook and she wanted to know why. As he reached her, he took hold of her arm without significant force and guided her further away from Henry.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Emma?”

He asked quietly. And there was that little twinkling of hope in his impossibly blue eyes again; the same hope she’d seen when she’d called him ‘Hook’ while still groggy from anesthetic. That couldn’t be a coincidence. She swallowed thickly and shook her head, a heavy silence settling between them until she shook her arm out of his grasp and dropped her gaze to the floor.

“I dreamed about you.”

She saw his eyes widen in her peripheral vision but kept her stare trained on her feet, not wanting those eyes of his to see straight through her the way they so easily did.

“When you showed up here last week, you were so familiar. Even…even the way your lips felt on mine when you kissed me…it felt like…like I knew you. And then I called you Hook and I didn’t even know why. But you stayed, when I was in labor, and the way you looked at me and at Hope...truth is, I don’t know who her father is. Physically, it shouldn’t even be possible that she exists-“

“Henry asked if I’m her father.”

He cut in, his voice soft and low, unable to completely hide the emotion behind his words. Emma was staring at him now, searching his face and wondering how her life had become such a soap opera.

“And…are you?”

Her blunt, broken question was almost his undoing. He was aware that bringing a child into the world that she had no recollection of ever making must have been particularly testing and his heart ached when he thought of her going through it alone. There was nothing he would have wanted more than to experience every second of it right beside her. 

He knew that if her pregnancy had come to light before she’d left Storybrooke, there was not a chance in hell he would have let her go alone, no matter how much magic Regina had to conjure to enable him to go with her and Henry.

He could see the tears filling her eyes and they began to cascade down her cheeks, he instinctively lifted his hand and brushed them away. She flinched a little and he cupped her cheek.

“I’m her father, yes. And it makes no sense to you right now, I know, lass. But it will, I promise you.”

Emma’s shoulders dropped and a soft sob fell from her lips as relief washed over her. She may not understand it, but just to have the answer she’d been so desperate to find was an unbelievable weight off her shoulders. Part of her was still screaming that he was crazy, that _she_ was crazy for believing him. But his words held nothing but truth, and she assured herself she would _know_ if he was lying, especially about something as big as this. But just one look at her daughter assured her he was speaking the truth. She was the image of him already.

“Do you trust me?”

He asked her gently, his fingers sliding from her cheek to her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his. The question reverberated through her and she wanted to say no, but she knew that would be a lie. She didn’t trust anyone…but she trusted him. Nodding her head almost imperceptibly, he offered her a small smile and moved his hand to his pocket. She watched warily, tears now dry on her cheeks, as he produced a small vial of blue, shimmering liquid. Eying it carefully, she waited for him to explain.

“This will bring back your memories. You’ll remember who I am, you’ll remember your family…and you’ll know that all this,” he gestured around him, “isn’t what it seems to be, Swan.”

She frowned, swiping her palms over her eyes to clear the blur of her tears before taking it from him and studying it cautiously. She didn’t understand. But looking back up at him and realizing that no man had ever looked at her with such love in his eyes before, she uncapped the vial and lifted it to her lips.

The rational part of her mind was screaming again, insisting that she really had lost it now. She was blindly trusting a man who had waltzed into her life and turned it upside down, a man who claimed to be her daughter’s father, though the only recollection she had of him was in her messed up, impossible dreams of fairytales and villains and heroes. Allowing the rational side to stall her for a moment, she faltered and took a shaky breath. But the sincere, hopeful expression on his face convinced her and she silenced her rational side by quickly swallowing the blue liquid.

Nothing happened for endless seconds and she blinked, confused. Killian was holding his breath, watching her carefully, and her heart was racing. Disappointment and confusion overwhelmed her and she handed the empty vial back to Killian, who stared at it or a moment, looking more than a little disheartened. He looked wrecked, if she was being entirely honest.

Suddenly, it was as though fireworks had gone off in her head and she gasped, palms instinctively pressing against her temples as she winced. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she felt some kind of energy wash over her, like a cool breeze that made her shiver. Covering her eyes with her hands, the blinding light in front of her eyelids began to dim and images danced in her mind.

Neverland, Peter Pan, Rumplestiltskin. Giving Henry up and lying in a prison bed alone. Her parents. Lost Boys. Henry jumping through some kind of electric hole in a river with two strangers. A thick purple cloud engulfing a tiny town, a dark haired woman ripping out hearts with her bare hands and a pretty girl in red turning into a wolf. Seven small men with axes and a giant with some magic beans. A sheriff’s badge, a crypt and a beanstalk.

And him.

She could see him, those sapphire eyes piercing holes into her soul, and she could feel his lips on hers again, his leather jacket under her fingers and the intoxicating taste of him lingering in her mouth with the smell of the jungle all around them. She could feel his hands in her hair and a sea breeze as they kissed on the deck of a ship. The weight of him on top of her and their bodies tangled together, and the memory of coming apart beneath him.

And his final words to her before she watched him and her family disappear in a cloud of purple smoke, along with all her memories.

_There’s not a day will go by that I won’t think of you._

“There’s not a day will go by that I won’t think of you.”

She whispered, her eyes fluttering open and finding his. He let out the breath he’d been holding and a smile lit up his face. She reached out with a shaking hand and grazed her fingers across his cheek.

“You found me.”

Her voice was fractured and full of so much emotion she didn’t quite know how to process it. He simply smiled and leaned in to her touch.

“Did you ever doubt that I would?”


	6. Against All Odds

“How are we going to bring Henry’s memory back?”

The initial shock and confusion of having two sets of conflicting memories filling her head was beginning to wear off – though the accompanying headache was certainly persisting – and Emma had dragged Killian out of the apartment so they could talk without her son overhearing. But Henry was too engrossed in his video game to even notice they’d stepped out, thankfully.

As they stood in the hallway, Killian tapped his fingers against his lips, deep in thought. Pulling the empty vial from his jacket and holding it up to the light, he saw a couple of drops still remained in the bottom but he wasn’t convinced that would suffice.

“There may not be enough left here, but it’s worth a shot, wouldn’t you say?”

He handed Emma the vial and she wavered, a million thoughts racing through her mind. She could feel Killian’s gaze on her and she sighed.

“I know it’s selfish of me, but…part of me doesn’t want to bring his memories back. Because then he’ll know I gave him up and that all the memories Regina gave us are what could have been if I hadn’t. He’s gonna hate me, and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Stepping closer, Killian reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently, shaking his head.

“The lad’s not going to hate you, love,” he assured her, voice soft and quiet, “He may need some time to adjust, but he’ll know you only did what you had to do to give him his best chance. That kid you’ve got in there is whip-smart. Takes after his mother.”

She managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It very rarely did. The past year with Henry had been so normal and _real_. It made her heart ache with regret, knowing how very different her life could have been if she’d just believed she could be a mother all those years ago. 

She’d been seventeen, terrified and alone, chained to a prison hospital bed with every ounce of hope drained from her. She’d hated herself for ever trusting Neal, for letting him get close enough that she’d started to believe it was possible for someone to love her. 

She was just a lost little girl who didn’t matter and didn’t think she ever would; a girl who had spent the majority of her childhood crying herself to sleep at night because she so desperately wanted her parents and could never understand why they’d given her up. And she’d felt like she had no choice but to put Henry into the same system that had drowned every tiny spark of life in her…because the alternative was that she would make such a terrible mother that he’d end up wishing she _had_ given him up. And neither option was better than the other. 

Shaking her head to clear the dark thoughts from her mind, Emma quickly swiped a hand across her eyes, rubbing away unshed tears. She had to be strong, just the way she’d always been. She’d thought she couldn’t be loved, that anyone she trusted with her heart would hurt her or let her down in the end. But Killian was proving her wrong. And it seemed that each day they’d been apart had only strengthened his feelings for her.

“What are we gonna do if there isn’t enough of the liquid left to bring his memories back?”

She asked slowly, running a hand through her hair and looking skeptically at the tiny amount left in the bottle. Killian shook his head.

“That I can’t answer, lass. We’ll simply have to hope there’s something back in Storybrooke to help us.”

Emma frowned. If they went back to Storybrooke without Henry’s memories intact, she wasn’t sure how she’d explain that to her son. Out-of-the-blue road trips that she’d have to be somewhat cagey about weren’t exactly the norm. Not that he wouldn’t be excited, but he had very good instincts and he’d quickly figure out his mother and her ‘friend’ were both keeping something from him. Not to mention how awkward the reunion with Regina would be for him if he had absolutely no idea who she was.

“Let’s hope we have enough left then.”

She sighed wearily, acknowledging that this almost-year long vacation away from her old – _real_ – life was well and truly over. As she moved to go back inside the apartment, she paused and turned to face Killian once more.

“You really did think of me every day, didn’t you?”

She said, her voice gentle now, eyes holding his and noticing the way they softened as the corners of his lips twitched into a small smile and he canted his head at her. It was rhetorical question; she already knew the answer simply from the way he was looking at her.

“Everyday, Swan, everyday. I was certain I’d see you again…though had I known you were with child, nothing could have kept me from coming with you as you drove away from that wretched curse a year ago.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat but couldn’t manage to put words together. Instead, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, the press of his body against hers and the feeling of his arms closing around her so very familiar once more. It was as though no time had passed at all. The scent of him – leather and sea air and cedarwood – made her heart stutter as memories swirled in her head. How could she have ever forgotten what it felt like to be loved so fully, so unconditionally, so selflessly? How could she have ever forgotten the lengths this man had gone through to stand by her side through everything?

As she pulled back to look into his eyes again, all the walls she usually kept like a fortress around her heart came crashing down and she felt naked under his piercing blue stare. And that didn’t bother her quite as much as it could have. Leaning up, she placed a gentle, feather-light kiss on his lips and felt his sharp intake of breath as she did so, electricity sparking between them.

It was her way of saying ‘thank you’ and acknowledging how he’d fought to find her again, understanding that he’d reigned in the emotions she knew must have overwhelmed him when he’d found her, so that she hadn’t felt too threatened or suffocated by him without her memories. He’d kept his distance and had given her space, but he’d never once given up on winning her trust, winning her _heart_ , all over again.

As she pulled back, she lingered in his arms for a few seconds longer before moving back towards the apartment. He followed silently, his heart full from her small but loaded gesture.

 

\----------

 

Henry was still engrossed in his video game, barely looking over his shoulder as his mom and Killian entered the apartment. He was well aware that something was untoward, but he’d long since figured out that he learned more when he was seemingly oblivious to whatever was going on around him. He knew his mom was playing down her past or current relationship with Killian, and it hadn’t taken him very long to add his sister into the equation.

He felt the sofa shift and turned his head slightly to find Emma sat awkwardly next to him, holding a glass of OJ out to him with a small smile. Pausing his game, he turned to face her fully and narrowed his eyes.

“I only just finished my hot chocolate.”

He said, the tone of his voice clearly indicating suspicion. He glanced up at Killian, who was stood awkwardly beside the sofa, hand scratching the side of his face as he tried and failed to look nonchalant.

“What’s going on, mom?”

He sighed, placing the game controller down and taking the glass from Emma slowly, peering into the drink and then back up at her. She simply shook her head and smiled.

“Nothing. Just thought you might be thirsty. Killian’s staying for lunch and I’m gonna make your favorite.”

Henry smirked, believing he’d figured out what was making his mother act so cagey.

“Is this about him being your boyfriend? Because I already figured that out. You don’t need to act weird, mom. I’m old enough to know you didn’t make Hope by yourself.”

Emma blushed furiously, glancing up at Killian and feeling the slightest bit relieved that he too had a little bit of color on his cheeks from Henry’s blunt statement.

“This is…no…I, uhm…y’know, nevermind. Just drink your juice and go wash up. I’ll start lunch.”

With that, she quickly moved toward the kitchen, grabbing Killian’s good arm and yanking him along with her. She was very aware of Henry’s smirk as he watched them go and the young boy shook his head, downing the orange juice before disappearing to the bathroom.

Emma watched him out of the corner of her eye, holding her breath when he downed the drink in which she’d managed to mix the last few drops of the blue potion. Once he’d left the room, she turned to face Killian again.

“Well, that was awkward. And I don’t even think there was enough of the potion for it to work.”

“Aye, it’s been many-a-year since I felt myself blush. Looks like even your lad can see the sparks between us though, love.”

He smirked, attempting to lighten the mood and gently pulling her toward him with a hand on her hip. She scowled at him playfully and swatted him away, refusing to acknowledge the way her heart stuttered every time they made contact, and even more so when he trained that intense storm-blue gaze on her. 

When Henry returned from the bathroom a few moments later, Emma quickly put some space between herself and Killian, aware that Henry was clearly more observant than she gave him credit for. She busied herself with lunch, handing her pirate three plates and cutlery and gesturing for him to set the table. She noticed the way he kept glancing over at Henry too and wondered if he had the same knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach, the way she certainly did.

Lunch came and went, and Henry was a little quiet, but there was no hint that his memories suddenly returning were the cause of it. Emma and Killian exchanged subtle glances here and there, attempting to watch him for any suggestion that the potion had worked, without rousing his suspicions.

“Mom, I have a headache, I’m just gonna go lay down.”

Henry informed Emma as they cleared away and she spun round to face him.

“Are you…okay?”

He frowned and nodded succinctly, confused by the level of concern.

“It’s just a headache, I’m not sick or anything.”

She faltered and eventually nodded, watching as her son made for his room, her shoulders dropping and a soft sigh wearily falling from her lips. She could feel Killian’s gaze on her but she didn’t turn to meet it.

“Part of me is relieved…but I know it’s gonna make things a lot more complicated when we get to Storybrooke.”

She felt conflicted, knowing that Henry’s memories would be brought back sooner or later, but well aware that taking Henry back to Storybrooke sans memories had its own risks. Regina, for one. How could she possibly ask the woman who had gifted them with their lives together, and such wonderful memories, to keep her distance, for fear of spooking him? If Regina hadn’t gone through enough, living with the knowledge that she may never see Henry again, then having him back but not having him back would be a special kind of torture for her.

And what happened when Henry figured out exactly who Killian was in the world of fairytale characters, as he no doubt would very quickly? How could any kid deal with the idea of Captain Hook…well, _hooking up_ with their mother? Of course, she knew well enough by now that the fairytales of the “real” world weren’t exactly accurate.

“No doubt there’s something in the Crocodile’s little shop that can help us, Swan. Like I’ve said before, I have yet to see you fail. This will work itself out.”

Smiling half-heartedly, she sighed again and nodded, trying not to let the dozens of not-so-fun scenarios crowd her mind. 

Emma busied herself with cleaning the apartment and tending to Hope. She’d pulled the baby’s play mat out onto the living room floor and it had made her heart ache when Killian had quietly asked permission to play with her. He was her father, but their situation was so complicated and sensitive right now that he felt the need to ask her permission. She hoped that would change once they found some semblance of normalcy (whatever that was) because she knew, without a doubt, he would be a fantastic father.

As the minutes turned into hours, Emma’s gaze kept darting between Henry’s closed bedroom door and the clock. She was growing increasingly concerned and knocked lightly on her son’s door. Hearing a muffled “come in”, she found him sat at his desk, deeply engrossed in some artwork. Feeling relief wash over her in waves, she smiled and leaned against the doorframe.

“You feeling better now, kid?”

He nodded and hummed in affirmation, continuing his work and shifting slightly to speak over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna finish my homework and then just go to bed early.”

The relief she had briefly been granted slowly ebbed away and she could feel the familiar knot of anxiety twisting in her gut again. She tried to keep the worry from her voice, but failed miserably.

“It’s only 6pm. You’re not having dinner? I was gonna order us Chinese-”

“I’m not hungry. I just have a headache and I’m tired, mom.”

She watched him carefully, trying to read the situation. She didn’t want to push him if his memories had in fact started to come back, but her heart was stuttering with both dread and anticipation. Had it actually worked? And if so, should she sit and talk it through with him, explain the conflicting memories fighting for dominance and what it all meant? Or should she just give him space to come to terms with it all in his own time, not rushing him into confronting how he felt knowing she’d given him up after a tantalizing glimpse of the life they _could_ be living if she hadn’t?

Deciding the latter was probably the best option, she straightened up and began to pull the door closed behind her, feeling emotions thick in her throat and swallowing hard, refusing to let them overwhelm her.

“Mom…I like Killian. I’m glad you’ve got someone to make you happy, even if he does dress a little weird.”

Her heart stilled for a long moment as he half turned to look over his shoulder at her, offering a small and genuine smile. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and tried to reign in all the emotions tumbling over her, tightening around her heart and her throat. All she could manage was a strained smile and left the room before the tears threatening to fall made their escape down her cheeks.

 

\-----------------

 

“It’s almost ten now. We’ll get a good night’s sleep and leave for Storybrooke in the morning. I don’t wanna drive through the night.”

Emma was pulling bedsheets and spare pillows from the laundry closet, planning in her head what she’d tell Henry. A road trip on a Sunday was going to pique his interest, especially if she seemed particularly cagey about the details.

“Wise decision. Shall I rendezvous here in the morning with you and your lad?”

Turning to face him and, hands on her hips, she shook her head and gestured to the bedding at her feet.

“You can sleep on the sofa, Hook. I don’t know where you’ve been sleeping while you’ve been in New York, but I’m guessing my sofa is gonna be a big improvement.”

He lifted his shoulder slightly in agreement, a sheepish smile on his face, and she couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the weariness that had clearly worn him down over the year they’d been apart. It was subtle, but now and then she saw the slight changes in him. The lines on his face that had worn deeper, more defined. The ghosts of nightmares and sleepless nights reflected in his sapphire eyes when their gazes met, unguarded. The way he had apparently become quite adept at pulling the shutters down when he was holding something back, giving nothing away. She had to try that little bit harder to read him now.

He helped her silently to transform the sofa into a makeshift bed for him, their movements easy and synchronized, and sat down heavily on it once finished. She stood somewhat awkwardly and motioned to the kitchen.

“If you need a drink, or food or whatever, you know where it all is. Help yourself,” he nodded and she motioned to her room, “I’m in there if you need anything. Well…goodnight.”

 

\------------------

 

Killian tossed and turned, thankful not to be sleeping in his full leathers for once – just his leather pants – but still unable to submit to sleep because of the countless scenarios his mind was conjuring that could be awaiting them in Storybrooke. He had a daughter to protect now, and going back to Storybrooke to face whatever new foe had reared its head, with absolutely no idea of what to expect, was essentially walking into a battle unarmed. And that made him very uneasy. The only thing he cared about now was protecting the people he cared about, his family. He knew Emma could handle herself, but it still made the anxiety twist in his gut not knowing the level of danger they were facing.

There was also the fact that they would have to face Snow and Charming and explain Hope. He knew it could go one of two ways – either he’d end up with a black eye and some very choice words thrown his way, leading to what would no doubt become a very charged and uncomfortable exchange…or they’d welcome him into the family and be so relieved and overjoyed to have Emma and Henry back, as well as a new grandchild to dote on, that the details would be glossed over. He was sincerely hoping for the latter scenario.

Glancing at the clock and sighing wearily, Killian squeezed his eyes shut and willed sleep to claim him. But as the minutes ticked by, drawing out into hours that were slowly suffocating him, sleep only evaded him. The harder he tried to catch it, the more awake he felt and finally, he threw the thin sheet off of him, making his way to the kitchen and throwing back a lukewarm glass of water.

As he returned to the sofa, the fingers of his good hand kneading the knots out of the back of his neck, the sound of Hope crying startled him and he glanced toward Emma’s bedroom, noting that the door was slightly ajar. He heard the creek of floorboards and a few moments later Hope’s wails subsided. Sitting back down on the sofa, he could hear the soft tones of Emma’s voice but couldn’t make out her words. He could see the image in his mind of her sat on the edge of her bed, cradling their daughter as she fed her, and murmuring sweet words of comfort as her eyes fought to drift closed after being pulled from sleep so suddenly.

Listening to the silence around him, only punctuated by the quiet hum of Emma’s voice, he couldn’t help but smile, despite the exhaustion buzzing through every bone in his body. When he heard the floorboards creak again long minutes later, and no more soft words filtered out to him, his legs were moving before he realized where he was going.

Tapping very lightly on Emma’s door and remaining in the doorway as it slowly swung open, he rubbed his hand awkwardly against his scruff and met her gaze. She was leaning over Hope’s crib, soothing with gentle strokes of her fingers over the baby’s brow, and turned her head as the door opened.

Straightening up she turned to face him fully, sleep still clouding her gaze and surrounding her like a halo. She was so unguarded, her hair tousled and her features softer than they ever were in the harsh light of day, that his heart stumbled, missing a few beats as he just about maintained his composure. He was wrecked by the sight of her in plaid pyjama pants and a simple tank top; his exhausted body aching to feel her close to him again.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She asked, her voice husky and laced with the notes of sleep as her eyes began to slowly clear. He didn’t miss the way her gaze dragged briefly across his bare chest and it sent fire coursing to certain areas of his anatomy. He’d imagined many times what her voice would sound like in a morning, waking up beside her, and it had the same effect on him as it always did in his dreams. Shrugging away those uninvited sensations, he offered her a small smile, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Aye, just can’t seem to sleep. Granted, your couch is significantly more comfortable than a park bench. Is she okay?”

He motioned to Hope, who was now once again fast asleep in her crib. Emma glanced at the baby and then moved her gaze back to Killian, nodding.

“She’s fine. She just wakes up for a feed around this time. Sorry if she woke you.”

She moved round to the other side of the bed then, brushing past Killian and sitting down wearily on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to her, a gesture indicating her could sit beside her if he so wished. He willingly obliged, their bare arms touching. He saw in his peripheral vision the way cold bumps broke out across the skin on her arm where they touched and he had to fight back a grin. He couldn’t deny that he loved having such an effect on her.

“I’m kinda dreading tomorrow.”

She admitted quietly, shoulders dropping a little and a faraway look on her face. Reaching out, he placed his hand gently on top of hers on the bed between them and felt her instantly tense up for a split second before her body relaxed and she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

“I’m not relishing the days ahead either, love. But you’re not facing this new villain alone. You’ll have your very own villain right by your side, for as long as you wish it.”

He spoke in barely more than a whisper, not wanting to wake Hope again. Their gazes remained locked and she shook her head, turning her hand under his to intertwine their fingers, a thrill rushing up his spine as she did so.

“You’re _not_ a villain. I don’t care what you say, you’re one of the ‘hero types’ now. You’ve turned out to be my hero, at least.”

She said softly, and it seemed that the open honesty of her words had surprised even herself as she broke their intense gaze, suddenly awkward. But their fingers remained entwined for long moments and they simply sat side by side, each other’s presence providing the comfort they had both needed.

As he stood to leave, words of “I’ll let you sleep now, love” ready on his lips, she stopped him. He looked down at her, genuinely surprised.

“Can you just…stay with me tonight?”

Even in the low light, he could see the faint color rising on her cheeks, as he stood rooted with surprise for a moment. Nodding his head quickly then, he smiled warmly at her and waited until she’d slipped under the bedcovers to join her.

His heart was hammering and he wouldn’t have been at all surprised if she could hear it. Countless nights over the past year, he’d had dreams filled with her, but feeling her slight frame warm against his side as they shared a bed with nothing but innocent intention was better than any fantasy.

Turning onto his side, he pulled her back against him, noting wondrously how they fit together as though designed perfectly for one another. And one perk of having half an arm missing was the lack of awkward arm placement when lying in such a position, he mused.

She nestled back against him, sighing contentedly as the fingers of his good hand stroked the exposed soft skin of her hip with a feather-light touch. His chin rested against the crook of her shoulder, the sweet smell of her hair intoxicating him, and he felt her whole body relax against his.

Ordinarily, he knew that having Emma pressed up tight against him would illicit nothing but thoughts of a sexual nature, and despite the fact that he could certainly entertain such thoughts in that moment, he was more than content just to hold her.

It didn’t take long for them both to fall into a peaceful and deep sleep, remaining comfortably tangled together. Emma had never been one who could sleep in someone’s arms, always needing her own space in bed and becoming frustrated if her sleeping space was invaded by another’s limbs. But for the first time in her life, she felt completely comfortable and relaxed as she drifted off in the arms of a man who had fought his way into her life and her heart against all odds.


	7. Ties That Bind

As consciousness slowly returned to Emma, she yawned and shifted slightly, before realizing she was very comfortably tangled with limbs that certainly weren’t her own. As her eyes snapped open, she found herself with an arm draped over Killian’s chest, head resting against his shoulder with his good arm around her shoulders, keeping her snugly against his side. One of her legs was across his, tangled under a leather-covered calf and she held her breath trying to remember the night before.

Had they…? No, she was entirely sure she’d remember if she’d slept with Hook.

_‘Well, you forgot once before and ended up with a baby you couldn’t explain…’_

Her sarcastic inner voice commented unhelpfully and she scowled in response, silencing the voice. But not only that, their daughter was fast asleep in her crib just meters away _and_ she and Killian were still both semi-clothed, so she was sure they definitely hadn’t slept together.

Memories of the night before drifted back to her as she became more alert and she sighed softly, not wanting to move. She’d argue that it was for fear of waking him and having to awkwardly disentangle herself…but she knew it was also partly because the gentle, even rise and fall of his chest was more comforting than she’d ever admit, even to herself.

In a way, letting him hold her like this, and falling asleep wrapped up in him, was more intimate than any moment they’d shared previously. Emma Swan wasn’t a cuddler. She never had been. The idea of being so close to someone in such a vulnerable state was terrifying to her…but with him, somehow it didn’t seem like such a big deal. It felt natural, as though they’d fallen asleep together like that a thousand times. She felt more relaxed in his embrace than she dared to think about.

Straining to see over his head at the alarm clock on the bedside table, she winced when she caught sight of the yellow numbers silently announcing 5:41am. She’d guessed it was later than that, but perhaps that was because she felt more rested from the four hours she’d slept wrapped in Hook’s embrace than she’d ever felt in the last year. That thought tugged at the edge of mind and she swallowed thickly, choosing not to dwell too much on a deeper meaning.

She heard movement in the living room and frowned, wondering what on earth Henry could be doing awake before 6am on a Sunday. It was enough of a struggle to get him out of bed by seven thirty on a school day. Disentangling herself as carefully and smoothly as possible from Killian, she made for the door on tip-toe. Glancing back to check she hadn’t roused him from sleep, she slid out of room and pulled the door closed behind her.

“What’s going on, kid? You know it’s not even six yet, right?”

Henry was sat on the sofa atop the makeshift bed they’d put together for Killian the night before, playing his video game without even glancing over at her as she spoke.

Emma’s eyes widened as she suddenly caught sight of the arm brace and prosthetic gloved hand he’d left on the floor and subtly kicked it under the sofa, hoping to God that Henry hadn’t noticed it. She’d read Killian the riot act later about that.

“Yeah, I know what time it is. And Hook was already gone when I woke up.”

“Oh, erm, yeah he’s….wait…you just called him-“

Emma stopped abruptly, ice cold dread running through her veins and the color draining from her face as she stood rooted to the spot. She stared silently at Henry’s profile for endless moments, unable to find the right words and he paused his game, slowly turning to face her.

“I had a weird dream about being adopted and living in this little town with a bunch of fairytale characters, and falling down a portal to Neverland…and then I woke up. And _when_ I woke up, I realized it wasn’t a dream. All the memories I had with you, Regina gave us. _My mom_ gave us.”

Emma felt her stomach drop and the all-too familiar stabbing pain in her chest as his words resounded in her head. Blinking back tears, she moved to sit next to him but he wouldn’t look at her, which only drove the knife deeper into her heart.

“Henry…I know this is a lot to take in-“

“You gave me up. We could have really had this life, but you gave me up. I have all these different memories in my head, and I don’t even know which ones are real.”

Hot tears escaped Emma’s eyes and streaked down her cheeks, wrecked by the sadness and frustration and disappointment in her son’s voice. She knew what that felt like, could remember well the way the conflicting memories tore at her heart and rattled around in her head.

“I’m sorry, Henry. I wish more than anything that we’d had this life. I didn’t think I could give you this. I only gave you up to-“

“Give me my best chance,” Henry cut in, finally turning his head to look at her, “I know. I’m not mad at you. And if you hadn’t given me up, you might never have found out who you are, or saved Storybrooke.”

He offered her a small smile and she wondered how on earth a thirteen year old could be so wise beyond his years. At thirteen, she’d been raging against the world, angry at everything and bitter that her parents had abandoned her. Regina really had done a good job raising him; she couldn’t deny that. He was battling with two sets of memories and finding out for the second time in his life that his birth mother gave him up, yet he was understanding and optimistic about it all. He never ceased to amaze Emma.

She pulled him to her then, kissing his head and wrapping her arms around him.

“I love you, Henry. The memories from Regina might not have been real for us, but this past year was. And it’s been the best year of my life.”

A sob choked her and more tears slid down her cheeks, her heart aching as the emotions tore her apart. Henry held her tightly and she wished so hard that their lives weren’t quite so fucked up. 

But she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, whose firstborn was adopted by the Evil Queen, and who then went on to have a baby with Captain Hook, the man who could possibly be her True Love. It couldn’t really get any more fucked up, surely? Then again, they had no idea what was awaiting them back in Storybrooke this time.

After talking it all through a little more, Emma explained to him that they’d be going back to Storybrooke that day, telling him everything she knew about the situation – which really wasn’t all that much – and tried not to feel a twinge of sadness at the smile on his face. He assured her that he loved New York, and the life they’d had together in the city for the past year, but he was also happy to be going back to Storybrooke.

He left her sitting on the sofa then, thinking about all the memories they’d made together in the last bittersweet year, while he went to pack up his suitcase.

 

\--------------

 

Killian felt consciousness seeping back into him, at odds with the comfortable heaviness of his entire body relaxed in soft sheets. He hadn’t had a night’s sleep so restful in…well, he couldn’t even remember the last time. Shifting slightly, he expected to find the warm press of Emma’s body close to his, but when he didn’t, he squinted his eyes open in confusion. He was alone.

Pushing himself up onto his good arm, disappointment settling into his bones, he blinked the last remnants of sleep away and looked toward the door. He could hear Emma and Henry speaking quietly, and that was somewhat of a comfort. Perhaps she hadn’t woken up and instantly needed to put distance between them.

As he sat up properly, the sheets falling to his waist, he heard Hope’s soft cooing begin to turn into a cry. Glancing over at his daughter’s crib, he moved quickly, intent on being able to soothe her, intent on learning to be her father. As he stood over the crib, looking down at the tiny human he and Emma had created, he felt a surge of love and the instinctive need to keep her safe. She was waving her tiny arms, a soft cry struggling from her as her face pinched together and warned of the impending wailing to come.

Carefully, he leaned down and scooped her up into the crook of his bad arm, supporting her with his good arm and holding her gently but tightly against his chest. Hope whimpered, her cries suddenly forgotten, and grasped against the wispy hair on his chest. He smiled down at her, dropping a feather-light kiss to her head and slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed, unable to take his eyes off her. She cooed up at him, her eyes wide and roaming over his face.

“Shush now, little one. Daddy’s got you.”

His voice was low and soft, a lullaby that seemed to soothe her effortlessly. He simply cradled her for long minutes, staring down at her in wonder as she gurgled sweet sounds and wrapped her tiny hand around the finger he offered her.

He was so entirely caught up in adoring his daughter that he didn’t hear Emma’s light footsteps or the slight click of the door opening. She stopped abruptly in the doorway, hand still on the doorknob, and took in the sight of him, his back to her, rocking Hope ever so carefully in his arms. Her heart stumbled and emotion coiled up into a ball that lodged itself in her throat while she stood there dumbly, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of her lips.

“You wanna feed her?”

Killian’s head snapped around, startled by her sudden presence and equally confused by the question.

“But I thought you…” his eyes flickered down to her chest for a second, and he would admit with just an ounce of shame that he’d noticed a somewhat substantial increase in their size since he’d last had the pleasure of admiring them somewhere between Neverland and Storybrooke.

“I do,” she smiled, amusement in her voice, “but I can express. Gimme a couple minutes.”

And with that she disappeared out of the room, leaving Killian staring after her and wondering what on earth ‘expressing’ could possibly mean. He didn’t have to wait for long though, because she returned shortly after with a bottle of milk, screwing the cap on tightly as she made her way over and sat down next to him in the bed.

Trying to ignore the fluttering of emotion she felt watching Killian gazing lovingly at their daughter, she helped him move back on the bed to lean against the headboard, shifting pillows to provide the assistance he’d usually get from the prosthetic hand of his that she’d unceremoniously kicked under the sofa an hour earlier.

Once he was in a comfortable position, Hope cradled in his bad arm and the pillows, she handed the bottle to him and wordlessly adjusted his good arm with a small movement so that he was tipping the bottle just so, Hope latching onto the bottle and gurgling contentedly as her father fed her.

He smiled down at her lovingly, mesmerized by everything she did, and Emma couldn’t hold back the smile tugging on her own lips. He lifted his gaze then and met hers, but she didn’t try to look away. Instead, she let him see the smile reaching her eyes and the softness of his features warmed her heart once more.

They sat silently, words redundant as they both watched their daughter. Once her suckling slowed and she pulled away from the bottle, Killian looked to Emma for guidance. This was all completely new to him, having gone over three hundred years with minimal exposure to babies or what was required in caring for them. But he wanted to learn and he was determined that he would be the best father he could possibly be.

Emma smiled, grabbed a towel hanging over Hope’s crib and tossed it onto her shoulder, gently taking Hope from Killian’s arms and settling the baby against her shoulder. Alternating between gently patting and rubbing circles against her back, she met Killian’s gaze.

“This is how you burp her. Gotta do this after she feeds otherwise she’ll spit up.”

After a few moments, she moved to settle Hope against Killian’s shoulder, guiding his good arm in the right motions as his bad arm instinctively lifted to support her. If she was being honest, she barely even registered his lack of hook or prosthetic now. It didn’t have any bearing on the feelings she was slowly starting to admit she had for him, and he had his own ways of doing things to make up for his disability, which she had to admit added to his charm.

“Just pat a little bit harder,” she smiled at the worried expression on his face when Hope squirmed on his shoulder, “Don’t worry, you’re not going to hurt her.”

The tension in him eased fractionally as he settled into a comfortable pattern of patting and rubbing, and a short time later Hope burped impressively loudly for the size of her. Killian snickered and Emma rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her smile as he turned his head to kiss Hope’s cheek.

“That’s my girl.”

 

\------------

 

“Henry has his memories back, just so you know. We can stop tiptoeing around him now.”

Emma was zipping up her suitcase and speaking over her shoulder to Killian. He’d barely put Hope down since feeding her a few hours earlier, and she couldn’t even pretend like the sight of them together didn’t send a warm flood of happiness surging right through her.

He watched Emma carefully, trying to gauge her feelings regarding Henry now having his memories back. She didn’t seem upset, so perhaps when he’d heard them talking early that morning they’d been taking the chance to smooth things over and untangle the messy knot of memories Regina had seamlessly interwoven into their lives.

“And I take it I was right, he doesn’t hate you?”

Emma threw him a careful sidelong glance and swept her hair off her face before sighing and shaking her head. She straightened up and turned to look at him.

“He should, but he doesn’t. When I was his age, I hated everything and everyone. But he _understood_. He reeled off the reasons why I’d had to give him up and why that had ultimately led me to be a _hero_. My kid just found out for the second time in his life that I gave him up, and he still thinks I’m a fucking hero.”

Killian opened his mouth to respond, when Henry came barreling in through the door and Emma threw him a look that said ‘we’ll discuss this later’ before plastering a smile on her face for her son.

“Avery said I can keep the game, mom. He has two of the same one. Oh, hi, Hook.”

Killian offered him a warm smile and a succinct nod, the use of ‘Hook’ somehow sounding foreign to him now. Emma had sent her son to return a video game he’d borrowed from his friend a few floors below and it had given her time to put the last few things in order before they left.

“Okay, well, grab your suitcase from your room and start taking your stuff down to the car.”

Henry nodded and disappeared into his room, returning moments later dragging a suitcase and a large duffle bag that Killian was entirely sure Henry himself could fit inside relatively comfortably.

“Hey, Hook. Wanna lend me a hand?”

Henry smirked and Emma spun round to shoot him a pointed glare, shaking her head and rolling her eyes when she heard Killian chuckling. Henry dropped the duffle and held up his hands in mock surrender, the smirk still playing on his lips.

“Oh, mom, don’t forget Hook’s arm that you kicked under the sofa this morning. Don’t think the hook should make a return til we get back to Storybrooke.”

Killian was somewhat impressed with the kid’s sass but he could see the color rising on Emma’s cheeks as she dropped to her knees and reached under the sofa to retrieve his gloved prosthesis and brace. He’d wondered where that had disappeared to, but had simply assumed she’d stowed it away in her case.

“Lucky the lad mentioned that, love. I know you’re more partial to the hook and all, but-“

“Shut up.”

She cut him off with a sharp glance and his smirk mirrored Henry’s. She sighed in exasperation. Two sets of sass for her to contend with now. Great. Moving her suitcase down off of the table, she pointed toward the door and Henry acquiesced, dragging his bags out of the apartment. Emma took Hope from Killian’s careful embrace and settled her into her travel seat, while he reattached his prosthesis and lifted up her suitcase with his good hand, following her toward the door.

She paused before they left, allowing Killian to pass her and looking back at the apartment she and Henry had called home for the past year. It hurt to be leaving it behind now, but she knew there was no other option. And deep down, she knew that even if there had been an option, she’d have chosen Storybrooke and family and _him_ anyway.

 

\--------------

 

Henry had been quiet for the majority of the journey, the sounds from his handheld computer game the only sign he was awake. Granted, they had been driving north for the best part of five hours – with one stop to feed Hope and one for a bathroom break – so Emma had assumed he was probably tired and, perhaps more importantly, he’d only had his memories returned overnight. Emma knew what that felt like.

Overwhelming. Confusing. Frankly, kind of frightening. The blinding headache that accompanied the memories made it feel like your brain was trying to escape through your temples. If there’d been any other way to bring Henry’s memories back, a way other than dosing him with the blue potion Killian had given her, then Emma would have gladly chosen that alternative. She was somewhat relieved Hope was a clean slate and had no memories in need of returning.

As they pulled into the gas station, Emma addressed a “be good” warning more to Killian than Henry, but the pirate and her son both offered her deceptively innocent smiles. After checking on a Hope – who was happily cooing at the unicorn mobile attached to her car seat – Emma shot them one more careful glance and closed the door of the bug behind her. As soon as she did so, Henry leaned forward between the two front seats to eye the pirate carefully, ready to interrogate the leather-clad hero who was currently sitting in the passenger seat and still trying to get used to a seatbelt.

“So you _are_ in love with my mom.”

He stated and there was no question in his tone this time. Hook bristled a little, ready to jump to his own defense and shoot down the boy’s statement that he’d managed to sidestep less than twenty-four hours previous. 

But he looked out of the windshield and caught sight of the blonde savior he’d travelled across realms to find, and realized that every time he looked at her, it was becoming harder and harder to tear his eyes away. It was also becoming more obvious that he’d completely lost his heart to her somewhere along the line. He could never pinpoint the moment that had happened, and _ye Gods_ he’d tried, but the only thing he did know was that he was hopelessly and utterly smitten.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, he could feel the triumphant smile on Henry’s face burning into him and nodded succinctly.

“That I am, lad.”

He murmured, not bothering to shroud it in _‘I care about her very much’_ this time, and he felt a small hand on his shoulder. Glancing sideways, he found the boy’s smile infectious.

“Good, because I’m pretty sure she loves you too.”

Silence for a moment, as Killian tried to stop his heart from racing. When he found his voice, he was relieved that it didn’t sound half as wrecked as he was most certainly feeling. 

“Oh. And what, pray tell, makes you believe such a thing?”

“Well, for one, I know my mom and the way she looks at you is...different. When she smiles at you, it goes right to her eyes. She sometimes doesn’t even realize she’s looking at you and she’s got this kind of light in her. I haven’t seen her look at anyone like that in...well, ever. And also, she lets you be around me. That means she trusts you a lot.”

Silence settled between them for long moments as Henry’s words sank in. He’d dared to hope, but when True Love’s Kiss hadn’t worked the first time he’d tried it – albeit after warnings from Charming that it didn’t work without memories regardless – it had weakened his conviction. He knew, without a doubt, that she was it for him. She was his True Love. There was no question in his mind or his heart about that. But believing he could possibly be _her_ True Love was where his uncertainties lay.

“Why did it take you nearly a year to come find us, Hook?”

Henry suddenly asked, his voice quiet. He glanced at his baby sister in her car seat beside him and Killian twisted around to face the boy.

“I received a message that your family was in trouble… _is_ in trouble, back in Storybrooke. I had to make a good lot of deals and sacrifices just to get to this world, lad. But had I known about Hope…I never would have stayed behind and let that curse rip me away from your mother’s side.”

Henry nodded slowly, as though mulling the words over in his head.

“My dad left her with a lot of trust issues. I know that Mary Margaret really wanted them to try getting back together when we got back from Neverland, and I thought I wanted that too…but she trusts you. In a way she never could trust my dad again…”

“I won’t ever hurt her, you have my word on that, Henry. I treasure her trust and I plan to make up for every second I’ve missed with her and that baby, and with _you_ , this past year. If you and your mother will allow me to.”

Henry nodded again, leaning back in his seat and turning to his video game again as he saw Emma returning. Before she reached the car, Henry offered Killian final, quiet words. 

“Just make her happy. She deserves to be happy.”


	8. Welcome (Back) To Storybrooke

Arriving back in Storybrooke was a somewhat surreal experience for Emma. Putting the car into park outside Modern Fashions and shutting off the engine, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever they would be facing. Admittedly, she was savoring her last moments in the safe confines of the bug. 

Looking over shoulder, she saw that Henry and Hope were both fast asleep and a sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Glancing over then, she met the gaze of the pirate who had come to mean so much to her, who had travelled across worlds to find her and kept her in his heart and on his mind even when she had challenged his resolve.

They both got out of the car and he rounded the bug to stand beside her as she stared at the surprisingly calm and painfully familiar town around her, the reality of it all shuddering over her like a hurricane.

“It’s really back. _I’m_ really back.”

She muttered, numb despite the flood of emotions she was being overwhelmed by. Killian’s eyes drifted from her face to follow her gaze across to Granny’s diner.

“As quaint and homey as you remember?”

“As cursed as I remember.”

She countered and out of the corner of her eye she saw him reaching into his jacket pocket. Turning, she gave him a bemused glare and leaned against the bug as he lifted his hook and clicked it firmly back into place, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That’s more like it, isn’t it, Swan?”

He reached forward and flicked her hair away from her shoulder with the tip of his newly reattached hook. She didn’t let it show on her face, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud, but it always sent a jolt of electricity right through her whenever he touched her with the cold metal, even when it wasn’t in direct contact with her skin. Schooling her face into a cool mask of bemusement, she shrugged off the feelings he far too easily stirred in her.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to explain that to him now. And Hope’s thankfully too young to need an explanation.”

Killian glanced into the car and smiled at the sight of Henry and Hope still fast asleep.

“Well, love, she’s going to be quite accustomed to it by the time she’s old enough to ask questions. I told you, I’m in this for the long haul.”

Emma chose not to dwell on the way her heart swelled at his words, at his open and honest intentions of sticking around long enough that Hope would become _accustomed_ to him. But if she really thought about it, he’d never let her down yet. He’d been the one person in her life that had stuck by her side and fought for her. 

Sure, her parents had fought for what they had believed would be her best chance, but she’d lived twenty-eight years believing her parents had simply tossed her away at the side of the road. Hook had made it clear to her that he placed her safety, her _happiness_ , above all else. She never had any doubts in her mind regarding the way he felt about her or the lengths he’d go to in order to stay true to his word, to stay by her side and fight for her.

Brushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, before she could become too dazed by everything else they were going to face together, she swiftly changed the subject.

“Last time this curse took away everyone’s memories. This time…?”

Killian grimaced slightly, shaking his head.

“We don’t know what it did.”

“Then I’ll find out. Stay here and watch them?” she nodded to the car, “Don’t wake them. Just…let them sleep.”

With that, she brushed past him and began to stride with purpose across the deserted street, still damp from recent rain. Well, Maine did rhyme with rain for a reason.

“Alright…where are you going?”

He called after her, and she paused, turning back to face him for a moment and taking a shaky breath.

“To talk to my _parents_.”

She sighed, walking backwards for a few steps and holding his gaze before turning and lengthening her strides toward the loft she knew so well. She could feel his eyes burning into her but she didn’t turn back. She’d face whatever they were later. Right now, she needed to see Mary Margaret and David.

 

\------------

 

Taking the stairs somewhat slowly, attempting to steady her racing heart, she stopped in front of the loft door, raising a shaking fist and rapping gently against the wood. Her gaze locked on the black number 3 plate on weathered green wood and her heart only hammered harder as she heard footsteps approaching and the door flew open.

She found herself looking into the shocked face of her father and couldn’t help the small smile that lit up her face for a brief moment.

“Hi…” she started, before quickly going into damage control mode, “Don’t close the door! I’m…my name is-“

“Emma!”

The relief and joy in David’s voice floored her and suddenly she was the shocked one.

“David?”

She stepped forward as he reached out and pulled her into a warm, tight embrace, his hand instinctively coming up to cradle her head the way he always did when he held her. A father’s touch. She felt his relieved sigh before he pulled back to look at her, confusion evident on his face.

“You remember?”

She shifted on her toes, the slight smile still on her lips and the happiness she felt at being reunited with him palpable.

“ _You_ remember.”

He looked astounded and at a loss for words as he stepped back to allow her inside.

“Of course, wh-….what are you doing here?”

She followed him into the loft and tried her best to form a coherent explanation, becoming more and more baffled by the whole situation.

“Well, Hook found me, he brought me here. He said you were cursed.”

“Yeah, we’re back. Or…we never left. Or…well, we don’t know,” he shrugged, clearly weary with the confusion, “we’re trapped again.”

“But, you know who you are?”

“Emma, this curse…we don’t know who did it, or why. All we know is that our last year…it’s been wiped away.”

“Wiped away?”

The unsettled feeling Emma had been plagued with the entire journey from New York was only becoming more magnified with every word her father spoke. Hook hadn’t been exaggerating when he said her family was in danger; she could feel it in the way her pulse thrummed with a mixture of apprehension and dread.

“All we remember is saying goodbye to you…it feels like yesterday.”

Confusion furrowed her brow as she tried to make sense of it all.

“But…if you can’t remember, then…how do you know that it’s been a-“

“Emma?!”

Mary Margaret’s voice cut her off and both she and David turned toward the stairs. Emma’s mouth dropped open in shock as her mother, her _very pregnant_ mother, rushed down the stairs and pulled her into a tight, trembling hug. She instinctively leaned into the embrace, feeling the baby bump pressed between them. She could clearly read the relief on Mary Margaret’s face as she pulled back, still holding tight to her hands, but all Emma felt was numbing shock.

“As you can see, a lot’s happened.”

Silence settled between them for moments that felt like an eternity before Mary Margaret sighed.

“Yeah, we just don’t know what. The whole year is gone.”

Emma couldn’t even begin to describe the emotions battling for dominance in her heart, but she squashed them, choosing instead to focus on the reason she was back.

“Who would have done this?”

 

\--------------

 

“They can’t remember anything about the last year. For them, it feels like they just said goodbye to me and Henry yesterday.”

Emma had returned to the car where Killian was patiently waiting, leaning against the driver’s side exactly where she’d left him almost a half hour earlier. He canted his head at her and she caught the grimace that flashed across his face, the momentary glimpse in his eyes of just how wrecked he felt hearing those words.

“Well, love, some of us weren’t granted that pardon. I remember, all too well, every second of every day I spent without you.”

The simple, open honesty of his words ricocheted around her heart and made her throat constrict as though his confession had placed a vice around her windpipe. Swallowing hard and dropping her gaze to the ground, she allowed silence to sit between them for a few long moments before once again lifting her eyes to meet his.

“It’s been a long day. Are you going back to your ship?”

Again, that flash in his eyes, and this time he was the one diverting his gaze. 

“I no longer have a ship, Swan. As I’m sure you’ve realized by now, a lot happened during this past year.”

She knew the surprise she felt was written all over her face and her mouth opened but she didn’t know what to say. He forced a smile and tried his best to act nonchalant about the whole thing, but she could see right through the façade.

“Well, I’m pretty sure Mary Margaret and David will offer the services of the sofa in the loft. Especially after you managed to bring me, and my memories, back here to them.”

She spoke quietly, her voice so much softer than she ever realized it could be. But clearly he’d sacrificed more than she’d anticipated, even though he was pointedly underplaying it. His lips twitched into a dubious smile and he raised an eyebrow in that infuriatingly delicious way that she really hated but secretly loved at the same time.

“I take it you haven’t informed your parents of our dalliance that gave us a daughter then?”

He challenged, amusement lacing every word. She wavered then, color suddenly draining from her face as she realized that they’d surely have questions when she went back up to the loft with the two children, after leaving with one. 

“We should…probably tell them about that. And sooner rather than later. Like…now. Let’s get this over with now. And you can hold her. Less chance of my father aiming a right hook your way if you’re holding his granddaughter.”

She was nervous, he could tell from the stiffness in her shoulders and the way she’d started to chew on her thumbnail, clearly working through all the scenarios of their possible reactions. Reaching forward, he brushed his thumb over her cheek, causing her eyes to lift and meet his. Giving her a small smile, he lifted his hand to brush away an errant strand of blonde hair from her face, fingertips caressing her cheek and offering as much reassurance as he could.

“I wouldn’t worry, love. It’s not you that’ll have the fist in your face when your father finds out I had my way with his daughter just days after he told me, in no uncertain terms, to stay away from you.”

Emma’s eyes widened and she searched his face. Not an ounce of a lie. David had really told him to stay away from her? She couldn’t decide whether she felt angry or touched by the underhanded interference, because all she’d ever wanted was parents and that was such a… _dad_ thing of him to do.

 

\-----------

 

Emma had sent Henry ahead of them, warning him not to say anything about Hope. She was hoping that her parents would be so relieved to see him that it would lessen the chance of sending Mary Margaret into labor when she blindsiding them by walking through the door with Hook and a week-old baby.

After all, the shock Hook had given her when he’d turned up on her doorstep in New York had triggered her own labor. But on the plus side, if her mother did go into labor, at least the heat would be taken off of them for a little while.

Taking a deep breath as they reached the top of the steps, and hearing Henry’s laughter and animated voice on the other side of the door, Emma glanced over her shoulder at Hook who shifted nervously behind her. He was carrying Hope in her carry chair and the baby was cooing contentedly, the gentle rocking motion lulling her.

“This could be…interesting. At least you’ve got some experience of a woman going into labor now. We might need that.”

She muttered and raised a trembling hand to knock on the door. Killian couldn’t tell whether she was joking or not, but the anticipation of the minutes to come was certainly taking the humor out of everything for him.

The door swung open then and they were both a little relieved to see Henry grinning at them. He stepped back and Emma ruffled his hair as she walked past him into the loft. Mary Margaret had her back to them, busy making drinks, while David stood beside her, leaning against the counter and grinning at whatever he and Henry had been talking about.

Hook was holding back, apprehension clearly visible on his face before he took a quick, steadying breath and strolled into the loft too, coming to stand next to Emma, a white knuckled grip holding tight to Hope’s carry seat before he set it down gently on the floor by his feet.

David’s grin vanished as his gaze dropped to the baby, shock rooting him to the spot and rendering him mute. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Mary Margaret glanced up at him and frowned, confused as she turned to follow his gaze. Her confusion morphed to instantly mimic David’s shock and her eyes darted between Emma, Hook and Hope as she dropped the spoon she was holding.

“Mary Margaret, David… _mom, dad_ …a lot happened for you over the past year, but…a lot happened for me too.”

Emma’s voice sounded much stronger and steadier than she felt, her heart beating wildly in her chest while she waited for her parents to say something, to say _anything_.

“You…had a baby.”

Mary Margaret said flatly, unable to tear her eyes away from Hope as her hand rubbed comforting circles on her own swollen belly. Henry chuckled, apparently the only one who was entertained by the whole situation.

“Did you…meet someone? Who’s…the father?”

David was silent and his blank stare of shock was unnerving Hook. He shifted from foot to foot, passing Emma a sidelong glance as an invitation for her to explain the situation to her mother. He was somewhat thankful Mary Margaret was the one who’d retained the ability to speak because he was entirely sure his mate wouldn’t be as tactful as his wife.

Emma cleared her throat, color rising on her cheeks as she uttered a few incoherent stammers before wincing and stopping herself.

“This is stupid. I’m not a teenager; I’m a grown woman. I made a decision and the consequences of that decision backfired massively when I lost my memories-”

She rambled, running a hand through her hair and beginning to pace the floor, unsure if she was actually making any sense.

“I’m the father.”

Killian suddenly stated, clear as day, the same look on his face as he’d had in the Echo Caves when he revealed that he’d kissed Emma. It was a similar confession, he mused, just on a larger scale. He dared a glance then at his child’s grandparents. They were stood, dumbfounded, gazes darting between their daughter and him, and he somehow felt the need to explain.

“On the journey back from Neverland, Emma and I…we spent the night together-“

David suddenly launched toward Killian, grabbing him by the lapels of his leather jacket, eyes blazing. Emma jumped between them, holding her father back as Hope began to cry. Mary Margaret shouted David’s name and moved around the counter then, in what could only be described as a hurried waddle, to fuss over the baby and stop her cries.

“David, now is _not_ the time-“

But David wasn’t listening, fire in his eyes and venom in his voice.

“You touched my daughter after I _warned_ you to stay away from her. Not only that, but you got her _pregnant_ and then let her leave, _pirate_? You let her cross that town line knowing-“

“I didn’t know!”

The devastation in Killian’s raised voice surprised them all and David loosened his grip on his jacket, suddenly silent, giving him chance to speak. He wrenched free of David’s hold altogether and turned away, not wanting them to see how wrecked he certainly felt and knowing it was written all over his face.

“I didn’t know,” he repeated, voice softer now, “I never would have stayed behind had I known she was with child. No amount of magic could have stopped me from staying by her side if I’d known.”

He turned back, broken gaze finding Emma’s, suddenly not caring that anyone else was in the room. He’d told her before, but needed to make sure she knew that the fact she’d gone through the pregnancy alone tore him apart, that he never would have chosen that for her, and that he would overcome whatever it took to remain by her side. He wouldn’t ever leave her or let her down the way so many people in her life had.

Emma could feel the tears stinging her eyes and she blinked them back, trying to ignore the way her hands were shaking. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor startled her and she, David and Mary Margaret watched as Henry stood up from the table and walked over to Hook.

Without saying a word, Henry wrapped his arms around Hook’s waist and hugged him, surprising everyone, including Hook.

“You make my mom happy, and that’s all that matters to me.”


	9. Put Me Back Together

Snow and Charming needed some time to process it all. Or that’s what they’d told Emma as they retreated to their bedroom, leaving her standing awkwardly in silence with Hook beside her, scratching the back of his head and keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

Henry had successfully dissipated the anger David had unleashed - in a move Emma could only excuse as protective fatherly instinct - and she was touched by her son’s actions; her heart stumbling as she’d watched him hug Killian.

The depth of emotion Henry so easily seemed able to show constantly awed her and she felt a rush of gratitude toward Regina for raising him that way. At thirteen, Emma remembered all to well that her own emotional walls had been so high she couldn’t even scale them herself. Yet Henry, with the heart of the truest believer, was able to reach out and calm a storm with a few simple, honest words.

“Henry, will you watch your sister, please? We’re going to go get Killian a room at Granny’s. I don’t think the sofa here would be such a great idea right now.”

Henry nodded and she started for the door, glancing over at Killian and gesturing for him to follow her. He snapped out of whatever thoughts he’d been lost in and she saw his face return to its unreadable mask once more. He followed her out of the apartment and down the stairs, not a word spoken between them until they were outside in the cool evening air and finally able to breathe again. The air in the loft had become stifling and they were both equally relieved to escape.

“They just need some time. It’s a…big thing to drop on them.”

Emma muttered, trying to ease the tension and soothe the wound her parents had clearly inflicted by reacting the way they had. She knew Hook and David had started to become somewhat friendly after their adventures in Neverland and even though his face was schooled into a careful mask of indifference, Emma could easily see the hurt in his eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting them to congratulate us with smiles and sunbeams, lass.” 

He shrugged, strolling along beside her seemingly unaffected. She knew it was just an act, but she could see he didn’t want to discuss it so she simply chewed on her bottom lip and nodded, allowing silence to sit between them once more as they neared Granny’s.

The silence didn’t last long though. They both gave a start when a high-pitched shriek from somewhere above them ripped through the stillness of the night and as they turned and lifted their eyes to the sky, their hearts both stilled. Soaring toward them, eyes ablaze, was a winged beast with bared teeth and legs outstretched, aiming straight for Emma.

Without a second thought, Killian launched at Emma and swiped his hook arm through the air, connecting with the leg of the winged monster and tearing a chunk out of it. They both hit the sidewalk hard, Emma pinned against the concrete and Killian’s good arm tight around her. He watched in numb shock as the injured beast retreated, its spine-chilling shriek fading as it disappeared toward the woods.

Neither Emma nor Killian moved for long moments, frozen with the shock of the sudden ambush from a creature that was most definitely otherworldly.

“Hook…what the hell was that?”

Emma’s voice was shaky, breathless, and Hook quickly moved to stand and help her up.

“I don’t have the faintest clue, lass. But whatever it was, it meant business. We should get inside.”

She nodded, but instantly winced as the action caused a bolt of pain through her temple. Delicately touching the side of her head, she found her fingers wet and sticky with her own blood. She had a nasty laceration across her hand as well, but was thankfully wearing her red leather jacket, otherwise she knew her arms would have taken a beating from the concrete too.

Hook’s face dropped as he saw the trickle of blood on her temple and guilt, although unnecessary, coursed through him. He’d hurt her. Unintentionally and in the process of saving her from some kind of flying monkey creature, but nonetheless, she was injured because he’d tackled her to the ground.

“Swan, I’m sor-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” she cut him off with a firm glance and shake of her head, “that… _thing_ would have left me in a worse state than this. So thank you, and please don’t apologize. Now, let’s get to Granny’s before something else tries to kill us.”

 

\---------------

 

“Emma! When did you get back?”

Granny was more than a little enthusiastic with her welcome as Emma and Hook, looking somewhat worse for wear, ducked through the door and dropped the latch as they closed it behind them.

Granny’s smiled was replaced by an expression of concern as she saw the blood on Emma’s face.

“Emma, dear, what happened?!”

“Some flying monstrosity appeared out of nowhere and aimed straight for Swan,” Killian offered, still a little shaken by the ordeal, “do you know what those things are?”

Granny grimaced and nodded gravely, ushering them both into the living room and they exchanged glances as the older woman began pacing.

“I don’t know how much you know already. But we’re all back in Storybrooke with no memory of ever leaving. But it’s not just our memories that are missing…people are disappearing. Whoever cursed us this time…they’re picking us off one by one.”

Silence descended on the room as the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on all three of them. When Emma finally spoke, her voice felt foreign to her.

“Who exactly is missing?”

Granny shook her head and sighed softly.

“Aside from some of the dwarves, we’re not sure. There’s been a lot of confusion over the past few days. It’s been heard to keep track of everyone.”

Emma nodded, suddenly cold. Wrapping her arms around herself, she watched as Granny disappeared to the reception desk and returned a few moments later, handing a first aid kit to Hook. He took it with a slightly confused frown on his face and Granny offered him a small smile, gesturing to Emma.

“Miss Swan is going to need to take care of that head wound. I trust you can help with that. I’m also assuming you need a room, Captain,” she handed him a key then too, “Number four. And use the washcloth in the bathroom so you don’t get blood on my towels.”

She gently squeezed Emma’s arm as she stood and made to follow Hook toward the stairs.

“I’m very glad to see you’re back, Emma. Even if it isn’t under the best circumstances.”

Emma managed a small smile, wishing she could say the same. But the year long vacation she and Henry had been given, away from curses and monsters and fairytales, just seemed like a really good dream right now. A dream that part of her wished she’d never been woken up from.

She wearily followed Hook up the stairs and toward the room she’d stayed in when she’d first arrived in Storybrooke to bring Henry home a few years back. That felt more like a lifetime ago now and her whole body ached. She wasn’t sure if it was from being bodyslammed onto concrete by a pirate whose leathers alone probably weighed more than she did, or from the emotional weight of the day pressing down on her. Probably a combination of both, she reasoned.

Shrugging off her jacket, she groaned when she saw the graze across the upper arm of the fabric and threw it on the bed. Hook had placed the first aid box on the footboard of the bed and had promptly disappeared into the bathroom. Emma heard the tap running and a few moments later, Hook returned with a warm washcloth, pointing to the bed and ordering her to sit.

She complied with a sigh and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. With his hook, he gently encouraged her to tilt her head and she did so, daring to find his gaze for a second. He was carefully focused on the cut on her temple as he lifted the washcloth to it, but she could easily read the anguish in his expression. So, keeping her gaze fixed on his face, she reached up to her cheek and gently touched his hook. His eyes snapped to meet hers and she gave him a sad smile.

“Stop feeling guilty. You saved me, okay?”

She wasn’t entirely sure whether she was simply talking about her wounds now, but she shrugged off that notion and closed her eyes with a sharp intake of breath when he tenderly swiped the washcloth over the cut. She could feel his hand was trembling slightly and, once again, she was struck by the depth of the feelings this man had for her. He was putting her back together, piece-by-piece, and he had been doing so since the day they’d met.

She couldn’t help but flashback to the last time someone had tended to her wounds this way…Graham. And suddenly her throat was constricting and she desperately needed to put some distance between herself and Hook. The memories of Graham collapsing and dying in her arms still haunted her and had invaded her dreams on more than one occasion.

She’d let down her walls, allowed herself to be vulnerable with someone for the first time since Neal had destroyed her heart and her ability to trust…and she’d just ended up with her heart ripped to shreds once more. Hook seemed to sense the change and removed the washcloth from her head, looking at her with an unspoken question in his eyes. She avoided his gaze and tried to calm the panic rising up her throat.

“Are you alright there, lass?”

She gave a succinct nod in response, keeping her eyes firmly shut, not wanting him to see the tears welling up behind her closed lids. She mentally cursed as she felt a single hot tear escape and slide down her cheek, willing him not to notice. But barely a heartbeat later, she felt him remove the washcloth again and knew he’d seen it, though she still kept her eyes closed.

“Swan…”

His voice was barely a whisper and she had to choke back a sob when he felt his fingers brushing the tear away. When he cupped her other cheek, she allowed her eyes to flutter open and meet his, seeing every bit of her broken heart reflected back in his eyes. He was her mirror, and it tied her stomach in knots knowing he was just as broken as she was.

“I just…this is a lot. All of this. Coming back here, my parents, flying monkeys…I’m just tired, Killian.”

He moved to sit beside her on the bed then, their legs brushing as he did so. They’d both noticed that she’d used his real name, but neither chose to comment on that. Killian’s heart did swell a little though. 

It was the first time she’d called him by his given name when it was just the two of them, no memory-less Henry to tiptoe around. He liked how his name sounded on her lips, though he knew now was not the time to make such a comment. He’d tell her so at a later date.

“It’s all gonna work out, love. The savior never fails, especially when she’s got a dashing pirate by her side.”

The corners of his mouth twitched into a tiny smile and he saw the tension in her shoulders ease a little. She turned her head to find his gaze once more and though he could see the tears in her eyes, she was clinging to her last strand of composure like a lifeline.

She couldn’t break, not here, not now. Because if she broke, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to put herself back together again the way her parents and everyone else in the town needed her to. She was the _savior_ , she didn’t have the time or luxury of breaking.

Killian reached over and took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb below the grazes across her knuckles. She’d hit the ground hard when he’d tackled her, and he was just thankful she didn’t seem to have any broken bones. Pushing himself to stand again, he informed her that he was going to check her over for any other signs of injury and she quirked an eyebrow.

“Any excuse to check me out. I see through your ruse, pirate.”

He chuckled, choosing not to comment but instead waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively, earning a roll of her eyes in response. Her eyes darkened quickly though as Killian’s fingers pressed gently into her shoulder and travelled down her arm, pressing lightly and testing for any tender spots. He repeated the same action on her other arm before tugging her hand in a silent request for her to stand up.

She complied, standing and allowing him to turn her around, shivers running up her spine as he used his hook to scoop her hair over her shoulder while pressing his fingers along the back of her neck, easing across her shoulder blades. The fine muscles and delicate bones of her back resisted but he persevered. 

Her eyes closed, and she let out a low moan before she could control it, instantly feeling heat on her cheeks as her eyes snapped open. She was thankful for the small mercy that he wasn’t facing her to see the embarrassment written on her face.

But his fingers felt so damn good working the tension out of her neck and she’d momentarily forgotten everything else, hypnotized by the way he was working out the knots. Pretty impressive for a one handed massage, she mused. She had to remind herself that it wasn’t _technically_ a massage. He was just checking she wasn’t injured anywhere else…

Killian’s heart stuttered when her moan broke the comfortable silence between them and he swallowed hard when he felt his blood instantly rushing south. Somehow, checking her for injuries had turned into something far more erotic than was appropriate for their current circumstances. They’d just been attacked by some kind of winged monkey, yet a fully clothed, wounded Emma was still arousing him more than he could comfortably admit.

Removing his fingers from her shoulder, he slid his hand from her waist up to her ribs and repeated the action on both sides, applying gentle pressure as he went. Her sharp intake of breath caused him to stop and she tugged her white vest top up, straining to see where the sharp pain had originated.

Turning round to face him, her vest top still raised to reveal an impressively flat stomach considering she’d given birth just over a week earlier, his eyes immediately found the already-purpling bruises down her side and over her ribs. She winced as she tested the area again, applying pressure with her fingertips.

Killian immediately grabbed the bloodied washcloth from the bed and moved to the bathroom, running it under cold water and returning to press it as gently as he could to her ribs. She faltered slightly before pulling her vest top over her head and dropping it to the floor, leaving her standing before him in just her jeans and a black lace bra. Her reasoning had been that he’d seen her naked before, he could handle it. And she didn’t want the washcloth wetting her shirt.

When her eyes lifted to meet his though, she couldn’t deny the rush of heat she felt pool in her belly from the way he was looking at her. His eyes were practically black, pupils blown, and she could see his jaw clenching as he fought with his composure. She felt the cool metal of his hook pressed carefully against her bare waist and her breath caught in her throat.

Before she even had time to second-guess herself, she was tugging him down to meet her lips, much the way she had done the first time she’d kissed him in Neverland. He instantly pulled her close against the warm leather of his vest, his hand lifting to tangle in her hair while his hook rested cautiously across her lower back.

The pain from her bruised ribs was dulled by the white-hot need suddenly coursing through her and she couldn’t get him close enough. Fingers gripping the lapels of his jacket, she pushed it down and off his shoulders until it landed with a soft thud on the floor. She couldn’t help but feel he was unfairly overdressed considering her current attire…or lack thereof.

“We shouldn’t be doing this now…”

She whimpered against his lips, desperately trying to conjure the willpower to pull away. She had no right to be feeling _good_ when the whole town was sat cowering under a curse of unknown origin. But the way his lips slanted against hers, the way his teeth tugged at her bottom lip and the intoxicating taste of him that felt like _home_ …she just couldn’t stop herself.

Killian was holding on to every ounce of self-control he could muster, wanting nothing more than to rip the rest of her clothes off and devour her the way he’d dreamed of doing so many times during their year apart, the way he had done somewhere between Neverland and Storybrooke. 

Just to feel the soft waves of her hair between his fingers again, and to once more burn the feeling of her lips against his to memory, was creating a whirlwind of emotions in his heart. Before he knew what he was doing, he felt himself mumbling words against her lips in barely more than a whisper.

“Gods, Emma, I love you.”

She pulled back then, green eyes wide, and he cursed himself for breaking the moment. His chest was heaving and both of them were breathless, lips well-kissed and bodies buzzing with the power of the connection they shared.

The L word terrified her, but it wasn’t the first time he’d used it. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t know the extent of his feelings for her. He’d crossed realms to find her, for God’s sake. They had a child together. And just one look into his eyes was enough to know that this man, this _pirate_ , adored her with everything in him. It was terrifying and exhilarating and _real_.

When she finally found her voice, it sounded just as wrecked as she felt, shattered with emotion and the weight of acknowledgment.

“I know.”


	10. Perfect Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I may or may not have watched an old episode of Buffy...and I may or may not have seen glaring parallels between Buffy/Spike and Emma/Killian that I then had to throw into this chapter.   
> If you ever watched BtVS then you'll probably be able to spot the scene I'm referring to. I've chopped and changed it to suit my purpose, but the backbone of the major CS feels in this chapter are credit to Joss Whedon and his crack team. Just so that no one sues me, because I really can't afford litigation right now. I'm pretty much worth a pack of lifesavers, some kale and a fruit roll-up or two, so it wouldn't even be worth suing me.

Mary Margaret and David had retreated to their bedroom to let their shock subside, but that lasted all of five minutes, before Mary Margaret felt guilty for being so unsupportive of their daughter when she had clearly made her choice. 

Perhaps, as her mother, she had hoped that she’d be rekindling the flame with her first love, the father of her child…but when it came down to it, all Mary Margaret wanted was for Emma to be _happy_. And Neal no longer had the ‘father of her child’ title all to himself. If Hook made Emma happy, Mary Margaret reasoned, then they’d simply make an effort to see past the issues they had with him and perhaps see the side of him that Emma had fallen for.

She had to admit that the pirate had proven himself on more than one occasion. He’d earned their trust and stood by Emma’s side with a fierce determination and steadfast loyalty that Mary Margaret recognized every time she looked into the eyes of her own true love.

But when the pair had returned to the living room, they’d found Henry sitting cross-legged on the floor, Hope cradled in his lap. David glanced around and inquired as to where Emma and Hook had gone, somewhat relieved they hadn’t packed up the kids and left, hurt by David’s outburst.

“She went to get Hook a room at Granny’s. Didn’t think it’d be all that great for him to stay here…”

Henry informed them, shooting a pointed look at David that he didn’t pick up on. But Mary Margaret certainly did. Henry had always been an insightful kid, but it seemed as though he’d also grown up quite a bit in the year he’d spent in New York. His voice was getting deeper and he was fast losing that little boy look, well on his way toward the fully-fledged teenage years.

“We should go over there and apologize. Or…maybe I’ll go and David you stay here with Henry and the baby.”

David nodded absently, his eyes locked on the baby in Henry’s lap, a small smile and tender expression on his face as he watched her. Mary Margaret didn’t miss the slight release of tension she felt in her shoulders then, hoping that a little time bonding with his new grandchild would perhaps ease him into accepting Hook’s new role in all their lives.

Making her way down the stairs, Mary Margaret quickly headed toward Granny’s and greeted the older woman as she closed the door of the inn behind her. Granny immediately canted her head in the direction of the stairs and smiled.

“They’re in number four. You ought to be careful out there, Snow. We don’t want those flying horrors attacking you too, not in your condition.”

Mary Margaret stopped at the foot of the stairs and frowned, turning back to face Granny with confusion written on her face.

“What do you mean, attacking me too?”

“Oh, dear, I thought that’s why you’d come over. Emma and Hook…they were attacked by one of those monkeys just outside here. She’s getting cleaned up now, and she’s okay, please don’t panic.”

But Mary Margaret was already halfway up the stairs, heart pounding and stomach in knots as she waddled down the hallway as fast as she was able. Her mind had conjured images of the winged creatures she’d only had the misfortune of spying twice thus far, swooping down and aiming for Emma, talons like knives and screams ricocheting around her head.

Reaching number four, she rapped on the door and called out frantically, panic curling its way around her daughter’s name as it left her lips. The door swung open a few moments later and Emma stood before her, eyes wide, holding her vest top across her chest with smudges of blood still staining her temple.

Not even registering the fact that her daughter was half naked, Mary Margaret pulled Emma into her arms with a relieved gasp, somehow only willing to accept she was really okay once she was squeezing her tight. Emma nervously cleared her throat and awkwardly disentangled herself from her mother’s embrace after a few moments, putting some space back between them and hurriedly pulling her vest top on.

She threw a sideward glance at Hook and met his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck and hoping neither of them looked too guilty. Her lips were noticeably well-kissed and her cheeks were a pretty pink color, but Snow seemed oblivious to the fact that he’d just been kissing her daughter like she was his last breath. 

“Granny said you were attacked and I didn’t know what to expect! Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry for the way David and I reacted back there. You just took us by surprise…”

The words were rushed and breathless, swirling between them and doing nothing to ease the tension between Emma’s shoulder blades. It was only then that Mary Margaret seemed to register that Emma wasn’t the only one in the room and she was suddenly at a loss for words, eyes darting between her daughter and the pirate. Eventually, she found her voice and her gaze flickered to the bloody washcloth on the bed before once again meeting cautious cerulean blue.

“You brought our daughter back to us, and you care about her, I can see that. I’m sorry that our reaction to the baby was a little…hurtful. Emotions are running pretty high around here right now-“

“S’quite alright, love. Needless to say, I wasn’t anticipating the current circumstances either, when I went off in search of your daughter.”

Mary Margaret nodded, absently touching her baby bump and looking as though she was about to say something further but then deciding against it Instead, she closed her mouth and turned to face Emma once more. Moving to wrap her in a hug before making for the door, she stopped with her hand on the doorknob, turning with a weak smile.

“Maybe tonight you should get some rest, and we can start fresh in the morning. If you want to come back to the loft, your room is right where it’s always been, but if you want to..stay here, I understand. The children can stay with us tonight. There’s a lot to discuss tomorrow, despite how little we know about what’s going on around here. But Emma…I’m so very glad you’re back.”

 

\-----------------

 

A shaky sigh passed Emma’s lips and her shoulders sagged the moment the door clicked shut behind her mother. An easy silence descended on the room then and she wearily moved to sit on the edge of the bed, her back to Killian. He watched her carefully, noting the invisible weight that suddenly sat heavily on her shoulders, working its way into every delicate muscle.

He hesitated for a brief moment, wondering what he could possibly say to ease that tension out of her shoulders. She was locked up tight, and he could practically hear the gates slamming shut around her heart, just as he’d been breaking them down. He couldn’t bear to see those gates locking from the inside now and a sense of desperation was seeping into his veins, knowing he had to find a way to break back in, to fight for her when she was fighting herself.

“Love…” he started, slowly making his way round the bed to stand before her, “your mother’s right. You need some rest.”

It was lame, and he knew it. And by the way she lifted her eyes to meet his he knew she was thinking the same thing. Sighing, he reached out with his hook to brush a strand of gold off her face. She didn’t flinch, instead moving almost-imperceptibly to lean into his touch. He smiled.

“Being back here…it’s harder than I thought it’d be,” she started, voice small, “we’ve hardly been back an hour and already I feel like I’m choking. My whole life, I’ve been alone…and I dreamed about having a family, having people who loved me and needed me around. But here…I’m the _savior_. And being loved and needed kinda feels like a prison sentence. I should know.”

She sighed, swallowing the lump in her throat and staring down at her fingers as they knotted in her lap.

“I don’t feel like I can be what they need me to be. I don’t feel like I can _save the day_ like the savior I’m supposed to be. I just feel like that little lost orphan and I’m not sure of anything; I’m not sure we’ll make it through whatever curse it is this time, I’m not sure I even have the strength left to try. It’s one thing after another in this town and I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

Dropping to his knees in front of her, Killian stilled her hands with his one good hand and looked up to meet her eyes. Her broken words had wrecked him and she could easily read that in his gaze. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost as broken as hers.

“Listen to me, Emma. I’ve been alive a bit longer than you. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine, and done things I’d prefer you didn’t. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, a lot of wrong bloody choices. Three hundred plus years, and you’re one of the only things I’ve ever been sure of.”

He could see the emerald tears sparkling in her eyes and she didn’t even try to bother brushing them away as they slipped down her cheeks. Her gaze fell to his hand covering her own, a few drops of her tears falling onto them.

“Emma, look at me. I’m not asking you for anything, I’m here to be your strength when you think you have none. When I tell you I love you, it’s not because I want you – though, you know I do and always will – and it’s not because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on – though you are…” 

He paused and felt his heart soar as the corners of her mouth twitched into an almost-smile, tears still streaking down her cheeks. He lifted his tear-soaked hand from hers and brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, lingering as he found his voice again. 

“When I tell you I love you, I’m telling you that I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness, and your strength. You don’t know how strong you are, Swan. But I do. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you…we’re kindred spirits, you and I. So, even when you think you won’t make it, you can take some strength from me and I’ll never leave your side, unless you wish it.”

A sob caught in her throat and he leaned over then, pressing a tender, feather-light kiss to her lips before leaning back and cupping her cheek with his hand, blue eyes meeting green again.

“You may find it hard to believe in yourself sometimes, Swan. And I understand why that is…but I also understand, with perfect clarity, exactly what you are. You’re a hell of a woman. You’re the one, Emma. And I’ll happily spend the rest of my life making you believe that, and showing you how to believe in me, in us, in _yourself_.”


	11. Safe Bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I refer to is "Talk Dirty" by Jason Derulo. Also, this chapter is basically one big Tumblr inside-joke.

“Hey, kid, don’t forget your jacket. Here.”

Emma threw her son’s jacket over to him as he was pulling on his shoes, before grabbing her own and waiting for him by the door. She’d bundled Hope into her travel chair because she did _not_ plan on hauling the pushchair up and down stairs where she could avoid it. 

She’d returned to the loft the evening before, emotionally wrecked and wanting nothing more than to sleep until whatever curse they were currently all under had run its course. But when Hope had awoken, as usual, at 5:30am for her feed, Emma had been wide awake with Killian’s words turning in circles around her tired mind. 

Part of her had wanted to stay with him at the inn, to curl up into his embrace and forget everything that awaited her outside that room. But she had forced herself to leave, unable to justify leaving her kids with their grandparents when Hope wasn’t even on formula milk yet. He’d understood, of course, and had kissed her gently and told her to sleep well.

Henry had been up early too, texting her from the living room to see if she was awake. She’d rolled her eyes and made for the kitchen, making a much-needed mug of coffee for herself as Henry sat at the table and ate his cereal. Once she’d sat down facing him, he’d placed his spoon down and asked her carefully if he could call Regina.

She’d simply smiled and told him she thought that was an excellent idea. They’d only arrived back in Storybrooke the night before, but Emma was somewhat surprised he hadn’t asked to go over there to see his other mom straight away.

So, Henry had finished his breakfast and called Regina, who had been so shocked to hear his voice that she’d dropped the phone before recovering quickly and making plans to meet him at the diner shortly after.

When they arrived at Granny’s, a little earlier than planned, Emma ordered them some drinks before leaving Henry in one of the booths and heading upstairs with Hope. Killian had greeted her warmly at the door, his face lighting up as his gaze dropped to his daughter. He’d clearly been awake a while too and Emma wondered if his night had been as sleepless and restless as her own had been.

She allowed him to take Hope, attempting to ignore the flutter of her heart as she watched him scoop her out of her travel chair with one arm and drop kisses all over her face, a beaming smile lifting his lips as she cooed happily with his kisses. Rolling her eyes, Emma bit back the smile that was threatening at the corner of her lips.

“Great, you’ve managed to charm my daughter already. Just over a week old and she’s already fallen prey to you.”

“ _Our_ daughter, Emma,” he corrected, without shifting his gaze from the baby he cradled so lovingly, “and of course she’s charmed by me, she’s a daddy’s girl already.”

She refused to dwell too much on the surge of warmth she felt in her heart when he’d corrected her, or the way she wanted to smile like a fool as she watched them together, so instead she changed the subject. There was too much to focus on for her to get sidetracked by her feelings for Killian right now.

“Shall we grab some breakfast downstairs? Regina and Henry are spending the morning together, so we can help Mary Margaret and Belle to research what we’re dealing with here.”

He nodded succinctly, keeping Hope cradled snugly in his good arm and using his hook to carry her travel chair as he followed Emma into the corridor and toward the stairs. As they descended, the muted bustle of the morning rush in the diner found their ears and Emma stopped at the foot of the stairs, turning to face him.

“No one knows about Hope yet, just Mary Margaret and David. Let me handle it, you don’t need to say anything. We don’t need everyone distracted and gossiping about us when we’ve got flying monkeys and a memory curse to worry about. Let’s…keep this simple.”

She didn’t miss the way his shoulders dropped just a little, the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of…what? Disappointment? Hurt? She couldn’t pinpoint the emotion, it was so fleeting and then his mask of cool insouciance was back firmly in place. Brushing it off, she offered him a small smile, which admittedly felt more like a grimace, and took a quick breath before heading into the diner with Killian at her heels.

As they entered, Regina’s eyes met hers and an almost-warm smile lifted her lips slightly. As they approached the booth where she sat opposite Henry, Regina’s eyes flickered to Killian and immediately fell on the baby. She stood up quickly, her dark eyes wide as the normally imperturbable mayor was stunned into silence, mouth opening and closing as she tried to find words. Snapping her mouth shut and meeting Emma’s uncomfortable gaze, Regina couldn’t help but smirk as she folded her arms.

“Well, it appears you kept yourself quite busy during our missing year, Ms. Swan. Like mother, like daughter,” her voice was cool, cutting, yet amusement laced each word as she raised an eyebrow and moved her gaze between them and the baby, “I guess now we know what you two were doing while I was saving this town from Pan’s curse.”

Emma shifted uncomfortably, aware that Henry was sniggering into his hot chocolate and that everyone in the diner was staring at Captain Hook holding a baby. This kind of scene was exactly what Emma had been hoping to avoid and she grabbed Regina’s arm, dragging her to the back of the diner toward the stairs, leaving Killian stood awkwardly with Hope, attempting to ignore the pointed looks being aimed his way by the hushed morning crowd in the diner.

Regina shook herself free from Emma’s grasp as they rounded the corner to gain some privacy and moved her hands to her hips.

“Was there really any need for that, Regina?”

She said sharply, a severe scowl hardening her features. Regina laughed humorlessly and rolled her eyes.

“Well _what_ did you expect, Emma? You very firmly denied involvement with the pirate back in Neverland when I referred to him as your boyfriend, I’m just taking great pleasure in pointing out that a _baby_ definitely constitutes as ‘involved’.”

“Interesting how you just _assume_ he’s the father.”

Emma challenged, but Regina simply shook her head, once more rolling her eyes.

“Even _my_ magic isn’t strong enough the tear down those impenetrable walls of yours, so I’m entirely convinced that you didn’t fall in love and have a child with someone in New York in less than a year. And are you seriously going to pretend that everyone hasn’t seen the _yearning looks_ and doey eyes? We may have lost our memories from the past year, Ms. Swan, but we remember everything from before that like it was yesterday. _Literally_.”

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes, folding her arms and ignoring the heat she could feel burning her cheeks.

“I don’t yearn.”

She said flatly, choosing not to comment any further. Regina simply smirked.

“Well, maybe. But he does.”

Glaring back at the mayor for a moment, Emma knew she’d been beaten. So, in the only way she could think of, she bowed out gracefully by swiftly changing the subject.

“We came back to town last night and some winged monkey thing attacked us. Know anything about that?”

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? By the tone you’re using, I assume you’re asking if I’m responsible for this curse?”

“Well,” Emma shrugged, “a curse where everyone loses their memories _does_ sound like your signature style.”

It was Regina’s turn to glare now, her lips pressing into a thin line, displeasure at the accusation radiating from her almost visibly.

“I can assure you, I’m just as in-the-dark as everyone else in this town. And besides, why would I do this? Why would I erase an entire year of my life?”

“Maybe it was a bad year for you. Maybe this curse was your way of getting me to bring Henry back here.”

Regina sighed in exasperation, shaking her head firmly. She could grudgingly understand why she would look guilty, after everything that had happened in the past. And without her memories, she couldn’t rule out that she’d done something drastic to numb the undoubtedly agonizing months following Henry’s departure, but she was absolutely convinced that she wasn’t responsible for the current curse they’d found themselves under. She’d just have to help flush out the person who was actually responsible and that was really all she could do now.

 

\--------------

 

Emma and Killian were sat in the Bug, on a deserted, tree-lined road somewhere between Main Street and the town line. Leroy and Happy had rushed into the diner with reported sightings of more flying monkeys near the town line, which had fortunately interrupted Emma and Regina’s back-and-forth. 

Emma had instantly left for the station to collect a gun and head out to investigate. Killian had rushed after her, with Ruby more than willingly taking Hope from him, as he insisted that he wouldn’t let her face more of those hideous beasts on her own. She finally – reluctantly – agreed that it probably wasn’t smart to go alone, so had relented in letting him tag along.

Which was why they’d been sat in somewhat-comfortable silence in the safe confines of the Bug for little under thirty minutes, watching out for any sign of movement around them. David and Robin – whom Emma hadn’t actually met yet – were out in the forest with Leroy and a few other men from the town, wielding swords, hoping to happen upon some of the people who were still unaccounted for. 

Emma wondered if Neal was one of those people, but part of her didn’t want to know. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of him being gone for good, especially if he’d been turned into one of those godawful monkeys. How could she possibly tell Henry that the father he’d just been getting to know had met such an unfortunate end? Just because she didn’t want Neal as part of _her_ life anymore didn’t mean she wanted to freeze him out of Henry’s life too.

Sighing, Emma tapped impatiently on the steering wheel before reaching over and flicking the radio on. She couldn’t help but smirk as Killian gave a start and stared at the button she’d just pressed in childlike awe. He lifted wide, storm-blue eyes to meet her green gaze and she couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips.

“It’s a radio, Killian. It plays music. That button changes the channel. Try it.”

She pointed at another button and he hesitated before reaching out tentatively and jabbing it, then jabbing it again…and again, until Emma put her hand over his and shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. Killian versus the modern world never failed to entertain her, even when he got annoying with it.

“Okay, just choose a channel and stop that.”

She said in mock annoyance, removing her hand from his as he nodded.

_‘Killian Jones. Actual five year old.’_

She thought, a smile tugging at her lips while she watched him as he began flicking through the stations again, this time slower, with a thoughtful expression on his face as he considered each channel’s offering.

When he finally settled on a channel, Emma barely managed to contain a derisive snort and a roll of her eyes. She’d reluctantly admit it had a good beat and a frustratingly catchy tune, but surely letting him listen to a song that contained the lyrics ‘your booty don’t need explaining’ was going to come back and bite her on her…well, _booty_.

He was nodding along, listening attentively to the lyrics, eyes widening as the song continued and the lyrics got more and more risqué. Even with his limited understanding of modern slang, he was clearly more than capable of deciphering what certain innuendos were referring to.

_“Chest to chest, tongue on neck, international oral se-“_

“Okay! That’s enough of that,” Emma exclaimed loudly, feeling her cheeks flush as she hurriedly jabbed the button to change the channel, pointedly avoiding eye contact with him.

Those lyrics were causing flashbacks to their night on board his ship and she didn’t want to acknowledge the way those memories sent a spike of white hot heat straight through her. It was suddenly stifling in the car and she averted her gaze out of the window, cracking it open slightly, willing her heart to stop racing as she tried to bring her focus back to the reason they were sat there to begin with.

“I was enjoying that, love.”

Killian said lightly, and she didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking at her.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you were. _Not_ an appropriate soundtrack for a flying monkey stakeout though.”

She muttered, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on a tree she’d arbitrarily picked out for the sole purpose of avoiding his heated, too-blue gaze. They lapsed into an easy silence once more, music and the radio station DJ giving them muted, easy background noise as they kept watch out of the windows.

Shortly after, Emma’s cell phone rang and startled them both. She cursed under her breath as she fumbled in her pocket and pulled it out to see David’s caller ID flash up on the screen.

“David? Everything alright out there?”

She answered the phone with concern in her voice and Killian watched as she chewed her bottom lip and noted the way her frown deepened in response to whatever her father was saying on the other end of the line.

“Okay, I’m coming back into town. Are you at the hospital now?”

It was Killian’s turn to frown now. _Hospital_ did not sound like good news. Perhaps they’d found some of the unaccounted-for Storybrooke residents, he mused.

“Alright, we’ll be there soon,” she hung up and threw the Bug into first, swinging it round and stepping on the gas, “Mary Margaret’s in hospital. David’s there now. The flying monkey stakeout will have to wait until later.”

 

\---------------

 

“I’m _fine_ , David. I just missed a step and lost my footing. Really, I doubt I’ll even have a bruise.”

Emma flew through the doors of the ER, Killian close behind her, and immediately rushed over to her parents; her expression of concern matching the one David was wearing. Mary Margaret offered her a reassuring smile and repeated her assurances once more that she really was fine.

“Belle was just so worried that I agreed to come in and get checked over. They’re gonna keep me in for a little while to monitor me and the baby, but Dr. Whale said I have a tough placenta…which somehow came out creepy.”

She sighed and leaned her head back on the hospital bed as Emma and David exchanged concerned glances. A few moments later, a woman Emma didn’t recognize came rushing through the door and called Mary Margaret’s name as she approached the bed. Emma eyed her carefully.

“I’m so glad you came! There’s no reason to panic though. We’re totally fine,” Mary Margaret was once again ready with the reassurances, but quickly noticed Emma’s cautious gaze, “Oh, I’m sorry, Emma, this is Zelena. She’s a midwife and she’s been helping me with my pregnancy. Zelena, this is our daughter, Emma, and this is Killian, her…erm…”

“Pirate.”

He offered awkwardly, giving Zelena a courteous nod in place of a handshake and choosing not to elaborate further. Now was not the time to attempt to label whatever he and Emma were to each other.

“Wonderful to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you, Emma.”

Zelena beamed at them and Emma shifted uncomfortably. Perching herself on the edge of the bed, she gave Zelena a small, forced smile of acknowledgment before turning back to her mother.

“We didn’t catch any sightings of monkeys out by the town line and we left Hope with Ruby so we’re gonna go relieve her of babysitting duties and head to the library. I’ll let Belle know how you are and we’ll help her to carry on researching. David, you’ll call me if _anything_ changes?”

David nodded and squeezed Emma’s shoulder, but as she stood to leave, Mary Margaret stopped her.

“Wait, Emma, I was going to suggest it this morning, but you and Henry had left when we woke up…maybe Zelena could help with Hope? There’s not much more I need until the baby comes, and you could probably use the help more than I could at the moment…at least until we have some idea of what’s going on around here, right?”

Emma opened her mouth to decline the offer, but Zelena jumped in ardently.

“I’d be more than happy to help with your little one. I’m _great_ with kids, and I’m sure an extra set of hands wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

Emma wavered, glancing over at Killian who was regarding Zelena warily. She was glad she wasn’t the only one who was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of handing her child off to a stranger.

“In fact, how about I take her for a couple hours now? A trial run for all of us?”

“She’s only a week old. And no offence, I’m sure you’re great at your job, but I think I’d feel better if I knew where she was.”

Zelena nodded, her smile never faltering.

“I could always simply stay with her in the loft? That way, you know exactly where she is and you can pop by as many times as you see fit to check on us.”

Once more, Emma wavered. She couldn’t really see anything wrong with that plan and she met Killian’s gaze to seek a second opinion. He hesitated for a moment before nodding almost imperceptibly, shoulders lifting in a half-shrug. They needed to figure out what was going on in the town sooner rather than later, and surely a qualified midwife – whom Mary Margaret seemed more than happy to vouch for – was a safe bet?

“Fine. That’d be helpful. Thanks. We’ll go get her from the diner and meet you at the loft in ten, okay?”


	12. Damage Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, guys. I'm so sorry. I just have an issue staying away from angst for too long...

After relieving Ruby of her babysitting duties, Emma and Killian returned to the loft with Hope to find Zelena had mugs of coffee and a warm smile waiting for them. But despite her obvious competence and ease as she took Hope from her mother’s arms and cradled her gently, Emma still couldn’t help feeling uneasy. She didn’t know this woman, and right now she felt as though she really shouldn’t trust anyone in town until they figured out who was behind the latest curse.

“Well, hello there, little princess!”

The redhead cooed down at Hope, who gurgled up at her quite happily. Lifting her gaze to Emma, Zelena offered another warm smile, obviously sensing the discomfort and reservations Emma had about entrusting her child to a stranger.

“She’s a beauty. You must both be so happy.”

Emma shifted awkwardly and felt her cheeks flush as she stammered a response. She could feel Killian tense just as much as she did.

“Oh, she’s…erm, we’re not…it’s complicated.”

Zelena nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face as she glanced between them and Emma shifted again, darting a quick look over at Killian and feeling her stomach clench at just how deflated he looked. He simply smiled back at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and she wished she’d chosen not to respond at all now.

“I’m sorry, that’s none of my business. I’m just here to make things easier while you focus your energy on catching whoever’s responsible for the crazy things happening in town.”

Zelena grinned and made her way over to the kitchen area, Hope still cradled easily in her arm as she put the kettle on the stove and started to ask about when and how they would prefer Hope to be fed, how often she napped, what her overall routine was. Killian waited patiently by the door while Emma answered all of Zelena’s questions.

Emma watched her carefully as she flittered about the kitchen but she really couldn’t justify the uneasy feeling swirling in the pit of her stomach. So when Zelena settled down onto the sofa with Hope drifting off to sleep in her arms, Emma had convinced herself to at least give her a chance. She’d only be down the street, after all. Writing her cell number down, she tacked it to the refrigerator and kissed her daughter before making her way to the door and reminding Zelena for the thousandth time to call her if anything happened.

Once Emma and Killian had finally left, Zelena smiled down at the sleeping child in her arms.

“Oh, little sweetheart, my plan might have to change a little. Because if your mommy and daddy are True Love, then you’ll do _perfectly_.”

 

\----------------

 

Belle and Emma were skimming through all the books they could find in Gold’s store. The task was a daunting one, but they had no idea how else to start uncovering exactly what was going on in the town. After a little while, they’d sent Killian to collect drinks from Granny’s and to recruit Ruby to help with the book research while he was there.

Belle was passing old, dusty tomes down from the top of the ladders and handing them carefully to Emma, who stacked them equally as carefully in ever-growing piles of “Useful”, “Maybe” and “Probably Not”. They worked in easy silence for a while, but Emma was silently counting down the minutes until the brunette bookworm simply couldn’t fight the urge to interrogate her anymore. To Belle’s credit, she approached the subject as casually as she could.

“So…you and Hook, huh?”

Emma bit back a sarcastic comment and simply shrugged in as non-committal a manner as she could manage. Belle smiled knowingly, about to push a little further when the sound of the door rattling at the front of the shop caught their attention. Belle’s eyes widened and she quickly climbed down from the ladders, making for the storefront.

“It’s Rumple.”

She stated, with a certainty and hope Emma had rarely been lucky enough to come by in her lifetime. She wasn’t fully clued up on who exactly was missing, but she hadn’t expected Rumple to be on that list because she specifically remembered him plunging his dagger through Pan’s back, killing them both, almost a year ago. Belle saw her confusion and paused.

“I’ll explain it all later. But he’s alive.”

She smiled and Emma could see the spark of hope glittering in her eyes. Brushing away all the questions swirling round in her mind, she followed Belle quickly toward the front room. They both stopped and watched cautiously as whoever was trying to get in through the side door struggled to shift the boxes stacked in front of it.

All of a sudden, Neal stumbled into the room as he shifted enough space to open the door. He fell to the floor and Emma stared in shock, unable to move, while Belle launched forward and dropped to her knees, repeating his name and gently attempting to rouse him but to no avail. Emma’s heart was pounding so loudly that it was all she could hear and she watched numbly as Belle gestured for her to call for help. In a daze, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialled her father’s number.

 

\--------------

 

“Neal…?”

Emma, Belle, Killian and David were crowded around the bed as Neal finally stirred, almost an hour after they’d gotten him to the hospital. He blinked a few times and his glassy gaze drifted between them all before settling on Emma. She was keeping her distance, but the concern on her face was evident.

“Neal,” she repeated, “what happened?”

He swallowed thickly, shaking his head and wincing a little as he reached up and tenderly rubbed the small lump on his head from where he’d hit the ground earlier. Killian offered him a plastic cup of water, which he gratefully accepted and gulped down before clearing his throat and finally finding his voice. 

“I…I don’t know what happened. I remember seeing the yellow bug cross the town line and…next thing I know, I’m running round the forest back in Storybrooke. Where, apparently, there’s been a whole lot going on.”

Killian shifted awkwardly. In the hour Neal had been unconscious, Belle and David had filled Killian and Emma in on everything they knew about Rumple possibly being alive. They’d told them how Regina and David had found a cage in a storm shelter out on the edge of town, with a spinning wheel and straw spun into gold. Killian lifted his gaze to find Emma’s and his lilting voice broke the stunned silence.

“Are you going to tell him, or shall I?”

Neal frowned and looked at Killian carefully before turning to find Emma’s uncomfortable gaze, his expression a mixture of suspicion and concern. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to find the words. David interjected easily, his voice gentle.

“Neal…we think your dad’s back.”

“Back? I…just watched him die, what do you mean he’s _back_?”

Emma stepped forward then, attempting to calm him down. His shock was understandable, of course, but the last thing they wanted was Whale throwing them out for agitating his patient and causing his blood pressure to shoot through the roof.

“Take it easy-“

She started, but upon noticing a bizarre symbol burned into Neal’s palm, all thoughts of calming him down were gone and she reached for his hand. Lifting it up to take a closer look, she frowned.

“What the hell is _that_?”

“No idea,” Neal said, and the anguish in his voice was clear to all of them, “it was there when I woke up back in Storybrooke.”

Emma quickly retrieved her cell phone from her jacket and snapped a picture of the unknown symbol scorched into the flesh of Neal’s palm and turned to Belle.

“Belle, can you do some research on this? I’ll send you the picture.”

“Yeah, sure. Absolutely.”

The brunette agreed, still staring at Neal’s hand while Emma forwarded the message to her cell. Neal was watching her carefully and she felt the familiar sensation she’d always seemed to feel around him since crashing into him in the ally in New York. 

The sensation coiled itself in the pit of her stomach and surged through every nerve ending in her body, telling her to run in the opposite direction, to put as much distance between them as she possible could. It was self-preservation at its finest, she knew that. He’d hurt her once, badly enough to shatter what little trust she’d ever had for over a decade, and the look on his face was a familiar one. She knew what was coming.

“Guys,” Neal addressed the group, “can we…have a minute?”

He met Emma’s gaze briefly as David, Belle and Killian moved to leave, but she cleared her throat and stepped back, avoiding her father’s pointed glance and instead lifting her eyes to meet Killian’s for a long moment. Neal frowned slightly and his gaze darted between the two of them, suspicion once again rising. Emma offered him an apologetic smile and edged away from the bed.

“I…erm, now’s probably not the best time, Neal. As you said, there’s a lot going on. You need to rest. We’ll be back later.”

And before anyone could protest, Emma had turned on her heel and made for the elevator in a flash of blonde and red leather. Even as she met the cool air upon leaving the hospital, her heart was still stuttering and she took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through her hair and slumping down onto a nearby bench. It wasn’t long before the familiar creak of leather (really, wasn’t he uncomfortable wearing tight leather every single day, regardless of the weather?) dropped down next to her, elbows on his knees and eyes trained on nothing in particular as he looked out toward the parking lot.

Neither of them spoke for long minutes and Emma knotted her fingers together, the coil of anxiety in her stomach slowly dissipating with the unspoken comfort his mere presence brought to her. The idea of being alone with Neal, scrambling for the right way to tell him about what had happened in their year away, had sent waves of dread crashing over her and the urge to escape had been too great to resist.

Not only that, but she knew if she had tried to explain Hope to Neal, it would force her to confront how she actually felt about Killian, because she knew Neal wouldn’t hesitate to bring that question right to the forefront, and she really didn’t want to focus on that right now. Not with everything else going on. Not when she had two kids and a whole town relying on her to keep focused and _save the world_ again. 

Then there was the whispering voice at the back of her mind that reminded her how good life had been back in New York…how good it could be again. Henry had been happy, and so had she. Things were so much simpler back there, and she kept reminding herself of that over and over again. Sure, it was a big city and it carried its own dangers. But flying monkeys and memory curses were not included. She wasn’t sure she wanted to raise Hope in a town where such dangers were the norm. She’d only been back a couple of days and already chaos was reigning.

“Did David launch into damage control after I left?”

She finally asked, her voice small and somewhat weary while attempting a note of amusement. She watched as Killian’s lips twitched into that familiar smirk and he canted his head to meet her gaze, storm-blue eyes twinkling the way they always did and making her stomach flip in an entirely different way than it had a few minutes earlier.

“You could say that, love. He’s rather good at it, I must say I was impressed,” he chuckled lightly and the smile flickered on his lips as he moved to once again stare out at nothing, “I’m presuming you fled to avoid telling him that we have a child together?”

Emma chewed on her bottom lip, not knowing how to answer other than to sigh and run a hand through her hair.

“I’d been back here two days, and I was attacked by some flying monkey thing, Mary Margaret is in hospital, some stranger is looking after my baby and Neal turns up out of nowhere. I’m kinda wishing you’d never found me in New York right now, Killian.”

She didn’t miss the way he flinched, shoulders stiffening at the blow her words inflicted on him. She felt a stab of regret, but she couldn’t deny the truth of how she was feeling. Perhaps she was subconsciously pushing him away, keeping him at arm’s length so that if the opportunity to take her kids and flee back to New York presented itself, she could take it. She wondered if she could actually do that, if it came down to it. 

Shaking off those thoughts, she sighed once more and pushed herself up to stand, looking down at him and allowing him to briefly catch a glimpse of the weary torment in her eyes, before walking away. She could feel his gaze burning into her back, but she didn’t turn around.


	13. Drowned Sorrows

Killian swore he could feel his heart shattering as he watched her walk away. The familiar ache deep in his chest that bloomed silently had kept him company for most of his three hundred plus years. And even though it was familiar, it still had the power to steal his breath, tendrils of pain making his vision hazy and his stomach clench.

She wanted to leave; he could read it in her eyes as clear as day. She wanted to go back to New York, to take Henry and Hope and return to the life she'd made for them that didn't include magic or fairytales…or _him_. Perhaps she hadn't meant to make that insinuation, but her words were resounding in his mind.

' _I'm kinda wishing you'd never found me in New York right now, Killian.'_

He couldn't bear the idea of watching her walk away again, especially now that he knew about Hope. Just a few days ago, her walls had been coming down, brick by brick, and she'd been letting him in.

Now the fortress around her heart was back firmly in place and he couldn't help but wonder if she was pushing him away now to make it easier when she walked away after the current curse was broken. And the idea that Neal's sudden reappearance had spooked her wasn't farfetched either. But he would do everything he could to change her mind, and he couldn't exactly see Regina letting Henry simply walk out of her life again.

She wasn't thinking about any of that though, he knew. Her fight or flight instinct was kicked into high gear and so many years as a lost girl had taught her running was always the safest option.

But he wasn't going to let her go again without fighting it. The helpless, powerless feeling of watching her walk out of his life last time had cut to the bone, and he sometimes still felt a wave of it wash over him whenever she walked away.

If Emma decided to go back to New York, then he would simply have to go with her. As much as the very thought of settling in that huge, bustling city terrified him more than he even cared to admit to himself, if it meant that he would see his daughter grow up and remain in Emma's life, he would commit to it without a second thought. Even if she didn't want to be with him, he'd find a way to accept that and still go, because now that he knew he had a child, nothing would keep him from being her father.

He just really hoped it wouldn't come down to that. She belonged in Storybrooke, with her family and the people who loved her. Magic was a part of her, no matter how much she fought it. He understood the crushing need to flee, to keep moving and never stay in one place long enough to set down roots. They were kindred spirits, and they understood one another. They'd both spent so much of their lives as lost, lonesome souls that it was a struggle to accept that they might actually _belong_ somewhere.

A long sigh passed his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck wearily and turned his head, tilting his face to the sky and watching the soft sway of trees, the sun slipping slowly down behind them into a burning orange sunset. Any other time, he would have taken a moment to appreciate the splash of warm colors adorning the sky at sunset, the way he had done so many times aboard the Jolly Roger. But his mind was far too tormented with Emma's words and the possibility of losing the only happy ending he could possibly envision for them both.

"I take it you spoke to Emma."

Killian gave a start and his head snapped round to find David sat beside him on the bench. He'd been so lost in his sea of thoughts that he hadn't realized Charming had joined him.

"Aye, that I did," he grimaced, "Being back here…well, she's feeling the weight of it."

David nodded slowly and the drop of his shoulders told Killian that it wasn't just Emma who was struggling under the weight of the new curse. David looked tired. The weariness in his dull gaze and the worry that lay behind it were more than obvious to a man who had seen three centuries and his fair share of hard times.

"I think we could both use a drink."

David sighed and Killian raised an eyebrow in surprise. The Prince had certainly warmed to him after their adventures in Neverland, but he was surprised that he'd been elevated to the status of drinking companion. Choosing not to verbalize his thoughts, Killian simply nodded and the two made their way to The Rabbit Hole in companionable silence.

\-----------------

"Rum for myself and the pirate, Damien. Thanks."

David waved the bartender over as they sat down and Killian watched absently as Damien set down two tumblers in front of them, pouring a generous measure of rum into each of them. He could feel David studying him but chose not to meet his gaze. He knew he was an open book when it came to Emma and he sure as hell didn't want her father reading the anguish he was well aware was written all over his face, etched into every line and forced smile.

"She just needs some time to readjust, Killian."

The understanding and softness in David's words made him flinch, not to mention the use of his give name. He hadn't been prepared to be _comforted_. He'd half-expected to be told, in no uncertain terms, that he was to protect Emma but to make sure that that was where his pursuit of her was to end.

He and Mary Margaret hadn't exactly welcomed him into the family with open arms when they'd found out about Hope. And now that Neal was back, Killian wouldn't have been all that surprised if her parents not-so-subtly nudged their daughter back in his direction. The very thought of it sent shudders of dread through him but he swallowed them down with the rum.

"She wants to go back to New York. When this is all over, I think she's planning to leave again."

Killian admitted, concentrating on the warm burn of the rum rather than the wounding sting of his words and the idea of losing Emma again. He felt David stiffen beside him and turned his head to face him slowly, the devastation on the other man's face painfully obvious.

"She…she won't do that. We're her _family_. She won't leave again."

David's voice was shaking and full of disbelief, his words spoken aloud as though to convince himself. Killian signalled for Damien to pour them another round when David threw back his glass and gulped it down, wincing and slamming the glass back down on the bar.

The two didn't speak for a few more rounds, comfortable in their disheartened silence and consoled by the fact that they knew they were quietly sharing in the burden of loving a lost girl so very deeply. David remembered all too well the way Emma had buckled under the weight of her parents' love when the original curse had been broken and they all remembered who they really were.

She'd been an orphan her entire life. For twenty-eight years she'd believed that her parents had discarded her, thrown her away like a useless piece of trash by the side of the road. She'd built a fortress around her resilient but broken heart and every experience in her life had reiterated to her just how little she could trust people, just how little she could believe in love.

So when she suddenly had parents who truly loved her with all their hearts, who had given her up for reasons entirely different to what she'd grown up assuming, it had been a real challenge for her to alter her entire belief system. And when she met a man who gave her every reason to trust him, who offered her his heart and soul without asking for anything in return, and who helped her to accept the power and magic inside of her…she simply didn't know how to fight her instinct to run.

Killian had flashed back to their adventure up the beanstalk so many times that the memory still somehow felt fresh. He could remember every detail of the war raging in her eyes, the way she'd trapped him and put distance between them, the fear and sadness and torment flashing behind a broken green gaze. The apology and regret in her tone when she'd said ' _I can't take a chance that I'm wrong about you_ ," had ricocheted around his mind and he hadn't realized the gravity of her admission back then, blindsided by her betrayal.

_I can't take a chance that I'm wrong about you._

She'd known, even back then, that she could trust him. Her intuition had been overshadowed by her lack of trust in people, and the heavy realization that she was considering breaking her self-preservation rule for someone she'd just met had panicked her; sending her rearing back and bringing all her fears raging back to life.

Her walls had been so very high, but over time he'd worn them down, chipping away at each brick with silent reassurances and unwavering honesty. He'd shown her on numerous occasions that she wasn't wrong about him, and he'd willingly worked to earn her trust.

But now, once again, she was running scared. And it was going to hurt everyone she loved, as well as herself, in the long run. A part of her would _always_ be that brokenhearted, scared little orphan, passed from one family to another and never really feeling like she belonged. She had a gypsy's heart, through no fault of her own.

David had been silent for a long while and Killian placed his hand over the tumbler of rum he was ready to throw back once more. His eyes were red and unfocused, a look Killian himself had worn more times than he cared to recall.

It was quite clear David was set on drowning his sorrows good and proper, just as Killian had been when they'd arrived at the bar. But he knew that no good would come of it in the long run. Not when they all had to be on their guard.

"Come on mate, I think we've both had more than enough. Your missus will use my hook against me if she finds out I let you get this bloody wasted."

David squinted at him and leaned forward to rest his head on the bar, eyes still blearily attempting to hold Killian's gaze.

"Did I ever tell you that she hit me with a rock when she met? A rock. She hit me with a _rock_."

Killian couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He was much more adept at handling his liquor than David was, and though the alcohol had left him with a pleasant buzz, taking the edge off of the bitter sting from his exchange with Emma earlier that evening, he was still very much in control of his faculties.

The same could not be said for David.

"Well, your daughter has certainly inherited her mother's sass and tendency for violence then. She held a knife to my throat, repeatedly, when we met. And tied me to a tree. Then she shackled me in a giant's lair and left me for dead."

David grinned proudly, struggling to keep his eyes open as he lifted his head from the bar.

"That's my little girl."

He slurred, and Killian couldn't help but respond with a wry smile before standing impressively gracefully and lifting David's arm to throw it over his shoulder, hoisting him up and leading him toward the door with a wave of thanks to Damien.

"How much did I drink? Snow's going to kill us."

David's words were all running into one and he was doing his best to hold on to Killian as he staggered toward the door.

" _Us_? Mate, _I_ can handle my liquor. And you're the one with a rock-wielding, pregnant wife."

"Well, Snow will kill me and Emma will kill _you."_

He chuckled and Killian shook his head with a half-hearted roll of his eyes. The very mention of Emma's name sent a bolt of dread running through him. He was taking David back to the loft, and she would no doubt be there too.


End file.
